


Anteroom

by minhyukie (thelogicoftaste)



Series: Setting Places [1]
Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child!Yugyeom, Dad!Jaebum, Dad!Jinyoung, Getting Together, Kid!Fic, M/M, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-03-28 15:52:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 76,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelogicoftaste/pseuds/minhyukie
Summary: How do you act around your ex with your child in the other room? It’s been almost a year and a half, and Jinyoung has yet to figure it out.





	1. If We Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> anteroom 
> 
> noun; 
> 
> an antechamber, typically serving as a waiting room

Now I know that a love too deep

Brings a sad ending.

I'll pray for your next love, my love,

[That it won't be like us, that it'll be without pain.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OZHTA32fGfM)

 

-

  
Yugyeom is not a quiet child by any means.

Jinyoung knows this, he’s known it for each of the four years he’s raised him. For the most part, he’s accepted this as part of his son’s annoyingly sweet charm, but moments like this—when he’s trying his hardest to concentrate on the mind-numbing task of filing his taxes—it gets very, very, hard to see it that way.

He’s been sitting at his table for just over an hour, the fan on his laptop intermittently kicking into gear with aggressive enthusiasm before dying down into a quiet hum, almost as if it senses Jinyoung’s distinct lack of interest.

He grips his pen in his hand and watches his son quietly from his vantage point. Yugyeom has his Mickey Mouse backpack on his back, one strap turned inside out over his thin sweater, and his small hands wrapped around the handle of his plain weekend duffle bag. He drags it with effort across the floor towards the living room couch. It’s not that heavy - it contains only some of Yugyeom’s current favourite items of clothing, an extra overcoat, his bathrobe, two of his slim bedtime books, his teddy and a few other things he’ll need this weekend - but Yugyeom huffs and puffs his way across the living room nevertheless, mouth screwed into a tight pout.

He struggles to lift the bag onto the couch when he finally reaches his destination, red-cheeked and panting. Once he succeeds, he turns and disappears back into the hall, returning a few moments later with another teddy bear (this one missing a quarter of one of its beady button eyes) under one arm and his fire-engine truck clasped in his other hand. He deposits his items on the couch and leaves once more.

Five minutes later, the couch exhibits a hefty mountain of toys migrated from his son’s toy-box and Jinyoung’s given up on the forms in front of him altogether. Instead, he’s leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowed at Yugyeom’s antics.

Yugyeom, completely engrossed in his activity, seems satisfied with his loot, patting at it lovingly. He shucks off his backpack, loudly unzipping it before attempting to shove in even more toys than were already contained within it. When that fails to work - the toys spilling over and onto the floor - he moves on to his weekend bag. He unzips it and flaps it open, and then, with an unaffected callousness that strikes Jinyoung smack bang in the centre of his heart, reaches one chubby hand towards the neatly packed interior and drags the contents out by the fistful. Quick and efficient, he drags it out and dumps it on the couch. Rinse and repeat. Fifteen minutes of Jinyoung’s careful arrangement, gone. Just like that.

Jinyoung closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and prays to every named divinity he knows for patience.

“What are you doing?” he asks him, sharp-toned and exasperated.

Yugyeom jumps, swivelling large brown eyes onto his father. He looks a little surprised, as if he’d forgotten Jinyoung was even there.

He looks at the mess he’s made, then back at Jinyoung, then back at the duffel.

“Um,” he says, carefully retracting his hand from the scene of the crime. “Getting ready.” Helpfully, he adds, “Daddy’s coming soon.”

“I know that,” Jinyoung responds, trying to keep a lid on his annoyance. It’s not like Yugyeom hasn’t been antsy with anticipation ever since Jaebum called to say he was on his way thirty minutes ago, or anything. “But Appa’s already packed all your things. Look at this mess you’ve made, now. What are we going to do about it?”

Yugyeom frowns, eyes cataloguing the disaster of clothes and toys strewn around him like the pg-13 version of a post-apocalyptic nightmare. He bites down on his lower lip, trying to appear coy, but Jinyoung spies the sly smile catching at the corner of his lips.

“Take it,” he says.

Jinyoung sighs, standing up from the table and moving towards the living room of their little apartment. “You’re not taking your toys.”

Yugyeom’s smile drops immediately, replaced by a furious little frown, “No, why not?”

He sniffles loudly, voice a little rough (Jinyoung fears a cold is right around the corner).

“Because I said so,” Jinyoung tells him presently. “What Appa says, goes. So you’d better watch your tone. You’re going to put your toys back in your toy box, and then you’re going to help me tidy up your bag.”

“No, but-, I want to take my toys,” he whines. 

“No buts,” Jinyoung tells him, picking up the clothes that fell to the floor. “You have plenty of toys already. You don’t need to take more.”

“But I need them,” Yugyeom insists, voice pitching higher and his face twisted in what Jinyoung recognises to be a prelude to never-ending tears. “I have to take it!”

“No,” Jinyoung shakes his head once, resolute. “We’re putting them away now.”

Yugyeom stomps his foot once, and when Jinyoung doesn’t adequately respond he does it again. “They’re my toys,” he’s telling Jinyoung. “I wanna take them, they’re mine!”

“And who bought your toys?”

This brings Yugyeom up short. He stares at Jinyoung, chin to chest, eyes big and wet, and his bottom lip thrust in a pout. It’s cute, but Jinyoung is well-versed by now in ignoring the cute and focusing on the _right_.

Again, Jinyoung repeats, “Who bought all your toys, Yugyeom?”

Yugyeom is mute. His kid is a lot of things, but he doesn’t lie often - and particularly not since the dressing down Jaebum gave him the last time he was caught out. Since he thinks the earth begins and ends with Jaebum’s approval, Jinyoung’s ended up with a mostly honest (if not a little spoiled) child.

Jinyoung looks at him, “Appa bought them, right? Doesn’t that mean I get to decide what to do with them?”

Yugyeom looks pitiful, but Jinyoung isn’t willing to let him get his way either. “You’re not taking them, kiddo. You need to put them back so we can tidy up.”

Distressed, Yugyeom switches tactics. “Please,” he tries, sniffling miserably. “I need it.”

Jinyoung sighs, one of Yugyeom’s undershirts grasped in his hand. He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in pure, unadulterated frustration.

“I said no, Yugyeom-ah,” he says, remaining firm. “No is no. Appa’s not changing his mind.”

Yugyeom gets that look in his eye, and all of a sudden Jinyoung finds himself holding his breath, waiting for an ear-piercing tantrum.

But-

It doesn’t come. Yugyeom opens his mouth to argue back, but he’s blissfully interrupted by the doorbell.

Sharp and perfunctory, it cuts through the tension in Jinyoung’s living room like it’s nothing; and yet his stomach still plummets in nervous anticipation.

Yugyeom, startled, swivels towards the sound - tantrum forgotten - before calling out to the door as he rushes towards it, “Daddy?”

He has got to be the fastest short-legged little human Jinyoung’s ever seen.

He’s out of his sight immediately, barely giving Jinyoung enough time to yell after him. “Don’t open that door, Yugyeom. Wait for Appa.”

Quickly, he tosses the undershirt towards the couch before following. When he gets to the hall Yugyeom is waiting by the door.

Jinyoung knows, objectively, that Yugyeom is far too short to open the door without any significant effort - but he likes to pretend that his child is obedient enough to mind his own safety (and Jinyoung’s instructions) anyway.

He hovers impatiently by Jinyoung’s knees as the latter opens the door, pitching forward face first onto Jaebum’s legs the millisecond he claps eyes on him.

Jaebum accepts the bundle of four year old with an indulgent smile (though Jinyoung doesn’t miss the way he instinctively jerks his hips back in the hopes of avoiding his crotch being bulldozed by their four-year-old’s head).

He picks Yugyeom up easily, settling him against his chest with a hard kiss to his temple, one hand cradled against the back of his head while the other - holding his car keys - supports his butt.

“My sweet boy,” Jaebum murmurs into his hair. “Daddy’s missed you so much.”

Yugyeom squeezes his arms around his father’s neck, pulling in closer.

Jinyoung snorts quietly to himself, he wonders what Jaebum would have to say if his sweet boy played up his tantrums with him like he does with Jinyoung.

When his eyes wander back to the other man, Jaebum is looking right at him; dark eyes trained on Jinyoung’s face.

A tight ball of heat falls through Jinyoung’s chest, stomach tightening as soon as his eyes meet Jaebum’s. He jerks his gaze away, palming at the warmth prickling the nape of his neck.

Awkward.

“You should come in,” he offers eventually, a beat too late. “Gyeom’s not ready yet.”

Jaebum steps forward into the entryway, holding Yugyeom tight as he slips off his ugly designer sneakers; soft, white socks contrasting with the dark wood flooring of the hyeongwan.

When he steps into the apartment proper, the kid wriggles impatiently - wanting to be let down. He all but drags Jaebum towards the couch, before pushing him down to sit with small, insistent hands.

Then he disappears into the open kitchen while Jinyoung smiles stiffly at Jaebum and tries not to feel awkward in his own house.

Yugyeom scampers back into the room clutching what Jinyoung recognises as the artwork he’d pinned to the front of the fridge with a magnet the week before.

“Look, Daddy,” Yugyeom says, crowding up as close as he can to Jaebum’s leg.

Jaebum gasps, indulging him, and takes the sheet from Yugyeom.

It’s a chalk drawing of Jaebum’s cat, Nora, as Yugyeom identifies in his distinctive chunky Hangul lettering. Although the cat remains relatively shapeless on the page, Yugyeom has taken great care in recreating its fur with bold, sparse strokes and enormous blue dots amidst an area of dark fur representing the eyes. There’s no signature, but there is smudged drool marking the corner.

“This is amazing,” Jaebum is saying, voice soft. “You drew this, Gyeom-ah?”

“Yeah,” the kid replies, shy smile taking over his face. He grips at Jaebum’s dark jeans, and bounces his knees, barely able to contain his happiness. “I did it. I showed it to Appa and-, and he said it was good.”

“It is good,” Jaebum tells Yugyeom, but he’s looking at Jinyoung.

And Jinyoung doesn’t know what to do, or how to act, so he watches the way Yugyeom wriggles in happiness and avoids prolonged eye contact.

The moment passes and Jaebum redirects his attention to Yugyeom instead. He takes a perfunctory look around the mess of the living room. He’s been kind enough not to mention that his seat on the couch has been cushioned by errant toys.

“What’s all this?” He asks Yugyeom, hooking the ring of his keychain on his index finger.

Jinyoung watches the way that Yugyeom’s eyes slide towards him before he looks at Jaebum. He’s pouting again.

“You can’t take your toys, Yugyeom,” Jinyoung says, getting a word in before Yugyeom starts trying to plead his case. “Haven’t I told you already?”

“You want to take your toys with you?” Jaebum asks the kid, getting a morose nod in answer.

“Jaebum...,” Jinyoung warns, feeling a flash of hot-blooded irritation. He really will lose his temper if he went through all of that only to have his decision undermined at the last second.

“But,” Jaebum is saying, sympathetic eyes locked with their son’s. “How will I carry all of this, and Yugyeommie too?”

Yugyeom’s mouth fixes into a tiny, pink pout. He hadn’t considered this.

“I can’t, right?”

Yugyeom shakes his head.

His favourite mode of transport is the Daddy Express, and Jinyoung isn’t too sure he’ll sacrifice being in Jaebum’s arms even for the opportunity to take more toys.

Jaebum knows this too, of course, and he knows better than anyone how to get Yugyeom to be agreeable.

“How about,” he’s telling him, setting aside the drawing before smoothing down Yugyeom’s unruly hair. “How about we choose one more toy to take with us instead, huh? Let’s listen to Appa and put these away, okay?”

“Okay,” Yugyeom agrees, pressing his lips together. He’ll do it, but he’s not going to be happy about it.

He trundles off to do as he’s told, an armful of toys leaving a trail behind him as he heads towards his bedroom.

Just as Yugyeom leaves, all the previous awkward tension rushes in. Jaebum clears his throat, looking around the room as if he’s never been here before, though Jinyoung knows he’s just trying to appear busy.

It’s a lousy attempt, but Jinyoung appreciates the effort.

It’s just so awkward.

How do you act around your ex with your child in the other room? It’s been almost a year and a half, and Jinyoung has yet to figure it out.

They didn’t end on a good note - it was a terrible one, actually - and for a long time they only communicated for Yugyeom’s sake. But now they’re here, trying to move on but clearly not there yet. There’s still a lot of hurt and anger that Jinyoung hasn’t yet processed, but he’s sure it’s way past its expiration date.

He feels like he’s on the backbench, like everybody else has figured out how to interact normally with their exes except for him.

“So,” he says now, watching as Jaebum turns towards him. “What are you doing this weekend?”

Jaebum hums in answer. “Nothing much. I’ll take him to the park, probably. Maybe have lunch by the river. We’ll mostly stay home though, it’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

He’s been flying between Los Angeles and Shanghai for the past week and a half, conference meetings. So Yugyeom’s missed the past two weekends with him. Jinyoung didn’t complain (much); it was kind of nice spending the weekend with his son - something he hadn’t had a chance to do for a while.

“Okay,” Jinyoung waves a hand towards the general mess of the living room. “I’m just gonna…”

“Here,” Jaebum says. “Let me help.”

In quiet, and dare Jinyoung say, comfortable silence they begin repacking Yugyeom’s bag side by side, hands occasionally brushing past each other.

Jinyoung’s finally fitting in Yugyeom’s toiletries bag before zipping up the duffel when Jaebum speaks up again.

“Has he been behaving?”

Jinyoung looks pointedly at the mess of toys that are still strewn around the living room, they haven’t been tidied since Yugyeom’s mysterious disappearance ten minutes ago.

Jaebum laughs, “Other than that?”

“Other than that, he’s an angel. Unless he doesn’t want to eat his vegetables, or stop watching cartoons, or take his nap, or go to nursery…”

The time out chair in the corner of the living room basically has a Yugyeom shaped butt indent.

“You get the gist,” Jinyoung gesticulates.

Jaebum pauses with his hands on his knees, “He’s not like that with me.”

Jinyoung bites his tongue on his reflex answer - that Jaebum never has Yugyeom for long enough for the kid to misbehave in any significant way - because he doesn’t want an argument. He doesn’t want to hurt Jaebum either.

“He listens to you,” Jinyoung says instead. “He thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”

It startles a laugh out of Jaebum, prompting a bashful smile that he tries to cover up with his hand. Jinyoung smiles too, proud of himself.

“Where is he anyway?” Jaebum asks, muffled.

Yugyeom, it turns out, is lying on his stomach on the floor of his room playing with model cars on his town-road play mat. He bounces the car along the cartoon roads, cheeks puffed out as he makes huffing engine noises. When his little red car gets to an intersection, he pauses.

“Beep, beep,” he says. “Excuse me.”

Then along it chugs, down the road.

-

After much coaxing (and Jaebum’s help) Jinyoung gets him out of his room and into his raincoat. Now, he’s perched on Jaebum’s lap as he ties his shoes for him in the entryway. Jaebum sits on the raised step; his shoes lined up clumsily next to the cute Moomin slippers Yugyeom never wears.

“You have scarves and gloves at your place, right?” Jinyoung is asking him, he’s leaning back against the front door while holding on to Yugyeom’s backpack and his duffel. “How about masks? I didn’t pack any because I figured you’d have some.”

Jaebum is carefully tightening Yugyeom’s shoelaces. “Yeah, I have plenty. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, but he has the beginnings of a cold,” Jinyoung tells him. “So I packed the medicine he normally takes, just in case you don’t have the same brand at home. I’ve packed his vitamins in there too, so make sure he takes them - even when he’s being stubborn.”

Jaebum moves on to Yugyeom’s other shoe. Jinyoung continues.

“Make sure you make him wash his hands every few hours as well. He’s picked up the habit of wiping his nose on his sleeves, which is…,” Jinyoung looks at his son, blissfully inattentive to the conversation; his nose is red. “Disgusting. But he doesn’t seem to think so, so avoid long-sleeved shirts this weekend. Wipe down your surfaces as often as you can too. Actually, I have the disinfectant I’ve been using, I can give it to you-”

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum interrupts. His tone is a little sharp, but Jinyoung doesn’t think he meant it to be. “It’s just a cold. I can handle it.”

“It’s not just a cold,” Jinyoung returns petulantly.

When Yugyeom falls sick, he falls hard. He’s miserable, feverish, his nose blocks up completely leaving him to breathe miserably through his mouth, he eats less because it hurts and he’s so lethargic.

All of his annoying habits are magnified by ten, which sours Jinyoung’s mood, which sours Yugyeom’s which sours Jinyoung’s and then it turns into a vicious cycle.

Jinyoung would give the world to never again have to toss and turn through the night, ears trained on the baby monitor on his bed-side, worried to his bones about whether his son will be able to breathe through the night. Which reminds him.

“Make sure you have the baby monitor on.”

“I will,” Jaebum sighs, patting Yugyeom on the legs to indicate he’s done. Jinyoung’s not too convinced by his answer, but he drops it in favour of pulling Yugyeom closer.

Placing the duffel on the floor of the entryway he kneels down, even though it’s a little crowded, to help his son into his backpack straps. Then he zips up his coat right up to the top. Yugyeom’s only going down the elevator to the car park where Jaebum’s car is, and he’ll only be exposed to the cold winter air for the few minutes minutes it takes to walk from Jaebum’s car to his apartment building, but Jinyoung worries anyway.

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling him into a tight hug. Yugyeom reaches his short arms as far as he can around his father, fingers curling into Jinyoung’s t-shirt. “You’ll be good for your daddy, right?”

Yugyeom’s cheek is smushed against Jinyoung’s as he nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’m a good boy.”

“You’re my good boy,” Jinyoung assures him, pulling back to thumb at the beauty mark under his eye. “Gimme a kiss?”

Yugyeom turns his head and obliges, Jinyoung paying him back in kind with a long kiss on the softness of his cheek and one on his forehead.

He pats his butt as he releases him.

Jaebum, ugly sneakers back firmly on his feet, settles the kid right into his hold with one arm propping him up, the duffel already held by his left hand.

Jinyoung opens the door for them, watching as Yugyeom turns his head towards him when Jaebum steps out into the hallway.

He stands in the entryway and looks out at them.

“Bye, Yugyeommie, I love you,” he says, gentle eyes on his son. “I’ll see you real soon.”

“Bye-bye, Appa,” Yugyeom replies, waving. “Love you too.”

Jinyoung waves back, eyes wandering up to Jaebum’s. They look at each other, Yugyeom’s plump hand flapping between them.

“Text me when you get home?” Jinyoung asks.

“Of course.”

“Okay.”

Jaebum nods, throwing a goodbye over his shoulder as he heads towards the elevators.

Jinyoung closes the door with a quiet snick. He stands in the entryway, looks down at the pair of Moomin’s bulbous, white faces staring back at him. It’s just him, Jinyoung and this empty house for now.

-

Jinyoung’s taxes are no less boring now that he has the peace and quiet to deal with it. He finally sits down after he’s tidied the living room, turning on the TV to the lowest sound setting to chase out the silence.

He finishes it around 67% quicker than he would have done with a tiny human perma-attached to his hip, so he considers that a job well done.

The sun has sunk a little deeper into the horizon, and Jinyoung really wants to faceplant on to his bed and knock out for at least twelve hours.

It’s been a hard week, with Jinyoung working harder and longer so that he’ll be able to take off a week from work soon without having to worry about falling behind.

He’s incredibly lucky that he has so much flexibility in his work life. As a content marketer for a small but successful clothing brand, most of his work involves blogging and report writing and strategy making that he can do remotely. So he stays at home four days a week, going into the office once a week. It means he can spend most of his time with Yugyeom, and Jinyoung’s gotten particularly good at fitting in his schedule around Yugyeom's naps, playtime and his bedtime.

Weekends are when he can fully recharge. He could go to sleep right now, but he has plans this evening - and he doesn’t need to rush it. Tonight he’ll sleep nice and long, and in the morning he won’t be woken at the crack of dawn by a screaming four year old.

So he stretches out in front of the TV, watches an unfunny comedy sketch show until his eyes glaze over.

—

It’s bitterly cold in Seoul tonight; more so on the southwest side of the river (where Jinyoung lives) than the busy, tourist hotspots north of the Han. Still, he’s grateful that there’s a direct subway line between Yangcheon and the restaurant in Mapo where’s he’s meeting his friends, so he only has to suffer for a mere few minutes.

He jogs up from Sinchon station, through exit six, before he takes the familiar route: down past the 7-11, turning left on the corner, down the road to Gosangil, across the road and there, tucked in between various retail shops is the quiet little eatery he frequents every few weekends.

His friends are already seated around a table at the back by the time Jinyoung pushes through the door.

Suji and Momo crowded into the corner facing the door, talking quietly with small glasses of soju placed in front of them. Momo’s untouched, Suji’s half-downed.

Hyunwoo sits between Suji and Minhyuk, awkwardly big between the two, whilst Jackson and Mark sit beside Momo.

Suji sees Jinyoung first.

“You’re here,” she exclaims, smile bright. Her make-up is thick today, pretty pink lipstick smudged a little around the contours of her mouth, and Jinyoung wonders if she came straight from YTN’s newsroom.

He slips into the seat left open for him and greets them with a sigh, taking off his heavy coat.

“I see you’re not dead,” Mark greets lightly.

“I need a drink,” Jinyoung responds with a tired smile. “Or several.”

Hyunwoo snorts, signalling for a waitress. Minhyuk, sitting beside him, curls his fingers into the distressed gap of his boyfriend’s jeans.

“Rough week?” he asks.

“The worst,” Jinyoung admits with a grimace. “There’s a new campaign for the collection due for next month, and half the interns are completely useless. I’ve had to work pretty late nights.”

Jackson, next to Jinyoung, drapes an arm over the back of his chair as he turns to him. His breath is warm on Jinyoung’s neck, and it smells exactly like how Jinyoung imagines a somaek distillery would.

“How’s your spawn?”

Jinyoung narrows his eyes, “Don’t call him that.”

Jackson raises his brows challengingly, lips puckered around the glass bottle.

“He’s fine,” Jinyoung relents. “A little fussy today, but that’s his dad’s problem now.”

“Amen to that,” Suji adds, tipping her glass to him.

Their table fills up with food quickly, the steam from the grill swirling between them. The restaurant’s noise levels rise considerably with every minute inching closer to when the bars and the night-clubs in the district open. Jinyoung has to lean halfway across Jackson and over the table to have a conversation with Momo.

“Twice,” she’s saying. “You know that girl group with that dance that went viral?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Jinyoung tells her (he doesn’t, he has no idea).

“That’s who I’m training.” She smears ssamjang on her lettuce wrap with her chopsticks and hands it to Suji. Then she holds the front end of her short black bob with her hand and goes in for a taste of the pickled radish. “They come in to my gym a few times a week for their exercise. They’re nice girls. It’s just-, it’s weird doing exercise routines with their managers sitting right there, and knowing there’s another twenty people waiting outside with cameras.”

“You know how those fansites are,” Suji cuts in. “Following them everywhere. But at least you’ll get good publicity out of it. Right? Tell her, Jinyoung.”

“Sure,” Jinyoung says, soju hitting the back of his throat. “Whatever she said.”

Later, as they’re dividing the last of the budae jjigae from the big pot to their bowls, Jinyoung notices the restaurant is quieter now that the crowd has moved to the clubs.

Jackson leans into his shoulder, “How’s life as a dashing, secluded father of one?”

Jinyoung smiles sarcastically, “Funny.”

“I’m serious,” Jackson defends, hand on heart. He can’t quite seem to figure out where Jinyoung’s line of sight is though.

“It’s-,” he thinks it over, his bowl full of ramyun and stringy american cheese warms his hands.

He’s the only one out of his friends who has a child. They’re all barely past their mid-twenties, so it’s not that unusual. But, it gets hard to relate to them sometimes - when he can’t drop everything and go to a party, for instance, or travel abroad for an impromptu trip.

Jinyoung and Jaebum decided to have a child as young as they did because of many reasons - mainly circumstantial - they were in love, financially stable and they both wanted children. So why wait, right?

He wonders what he would have done had he known then what he does now. Simply because Yugyeom will already face scrutiny for who his parents are, nevermind now that they’re not even together anymore.

“It’s good,” Jinyoung says truthfully, because Yugyeom is the best thing that's ever happened to him. “I probably need to go out more, but honestly? Yugyeom is a better friend than you are, so I’m not complaining.”

Jackson smacks him across the shoulder, hard enough for the broth to spill a little over Jinyoung’s hand as he laughs.

He hears his name being spoken.

“Did you need me?” Jinyoung asks Minhyuk.

“I was just saying to hyung that you might be able to help his firm with their new campaign,” Minhyuk replies. “You know a lot of designers, don't you?”

Mark looks up from where he’s texting, “You need a designer?”

Hyunwoo nods, “You know someone?”

“How about Youngjae?”

“He’s a designer?” Minhyuk asks, limp against Hyunwoo. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jackson pipes up from beside Jinyoung. "I’ve seen some of his work, it’s clean. It’d be good for corporate work.”

“Who’s Youngjae?” Jinyoung asks. He pops the cap from another beer bottle. It’s light and very fizzy, there’s not much in the way of alcohol content.

He’s taken his third gulp when he realises that he hasn’t yet been answered. In fact, his group of friends look pretty silent.

“What?” He says, putting the glass bottle down.

He looks at each of them in turn, but they suddenly find themselves entirely too busy to look him in the eye.

“Is there something I’m missing?” He turns to his right. “Mark hyung?”

Mark takes a deep breath, caught. “He works with Jaebum.”

“Right,” Jinyoung says, dragging his gaze around the table. “And that warrants this kind of reaction? I see Jaebum every week. We can talk about him, it’s not like he’s a fatal topic.”

Suji leans forward, ever impatient and unapologetically blunt even with her gentle words. “He’s sleeping with him, Jinyoung-ah.”

Jinyoung blinks. He doesn’t know what’s going on with his face but considering the looks on his friends’ faces, he’s done a terrible job of keeping his composure.

“Oh,” he says, mouth dry. He hopes that the cheap yellow overhead lighting of the restaurant disguises the mottled heat that rushes into his cheeks. “Right. That’s-. That's none of my business.”

The silence of their little table is almost palpable now. Jinyoung wants to move the conversation forward, but has no idea how to do that.

“You know what,” Momo proposes, loud and bright, her accent is thicker now that she’s solidly tipsy. “I’ve had enough of this bar. Let’s eat quickly and go somewhere else?”

With the clattering commotion of finishing up, standing, settling the bill and pulling on their coats, new conversations begin, and the topic of Jaebum is left far behind.

Momo squeezes past him with a clumsy smile, pulling her skinny jeans up higher on her bare midriff, sleek leather jacket doing nothing to protect her from the chill of outside. Jinyoung feels a rush of incredible affection for her. She pats him on his chest twice and then jumps to pull Minhyuk into a headlock as they stumble out of the door.

-

Jinyoung’s legs are still wobbly as they walk back to Sinchon station, he’s buzzing with the beat of the song of the last club they were in.

Soft, small hands wrap around his arm. He turns to see Suji walking next to him, keeping pace with him at the front, the others stumbling in a loose group behind them.

She has a big coat on but her legs are bare beneath her jean miniskirt. Her hair's tied back in a messy ponytail, though most of it has escaped her hair tie and whips across her red face every time the breeze picks up. Her lipstick is almost completely gone, now, only a hint of it left on the corners of her mouth.

“Aren’t you cold?” Jinyoung asks her.

“A little,” she says. And then, with a scrunch of her nose, “A lot.”

She crowds in a little closer. They walk past several closed stores, their red security monitors blinking at them. There’s a sound of dropped glass a street away and naturally, with a drunken delay, the sound of cheering and applause follow it.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Jinyoung says next. She’s dating some famous Hallyu actor; whispered to him over tea once: ‘His name begins with Lee, ends with Ho. But that’s all I’m telling you.’

She hums, pursing her lips and swinging her plain black clutch from its wrist strap. “Busy.”

“Too busy for you?”

Her eyes wander over the big neon signs with chunky western lettering, getting more frequent and much bigger the closer they get to the river. “Too busy for anyone.”

Jinyoung squeezes her hand; her fingers are cold.

“You know I won’t let anyone hurt you, right?” he tells her sincerely. They’re almost the same height like this, sneakers padding over the uneven ground. “Just let me know if you need me to remind him of that.”

She side-eyes him with an impish smile. “You’re gonna threaten him for me, Jinyoung-ah?”

“Of course not,” Jinyoung snorts, patting her hand. “I’ll get Hyunwoo hyung to do it.”

-

When he finally gets in later and appropriately faceplants on to his bed like he’s been wanting to, he sighs with deep contentment. The room is still spinning when he turns laboriously on to his back, he takes out his phone and wallet from his pocket and then pulls his jeans over his hips and down his legs, kicking it off and toeing off his socks.

There’s a bottle of water he’d left on the bedside table precisely because he knew he’d be far too lazy to go to the kitchen to get some. He grabs it and burrows under the covers.

He’s greeted with a wall of notifications. An email message (timestamped twenty minutes ago) from useless intern number one saying she’s sending over an attachment with no attachment attached.

There’s a text from Wonpil confirming where they’ll be meeting for a late lunch tomorrow.

An ‘are you home yet?’ kakao message from Momo with a cute Choi Minho sticker.

A ‘sfghsjaksfhf sahjdsh hsae ???’ kakao from Suji, followed by a voice message. Jinyoung doesn’t listen to it but knows it’ll be something along the lines of Momo’s sentiments.

Lastly, there’s a picture message from Jaebum. It’s Yugyeom, sprawled on his back with one leg thrust with conviction over the covers. He’s sound asleep, two hands in loose fists by his head (like someone had just yelled, freeze! you’re under arrest!) and his tummy peeking out under his spiderman pyjamas.

Jinyoung doesn’t reply, but he saves the picture to his camera roll and sleeps a little more soundly tonight.

-

 


	2. Pain in My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy got7 comeback day!!!! 
> 
> congratulations to the boys for getting into the top ten, we're all so incredibly proud of you 
> 
> ♥

Pain in my heart, 

Just won't let me sleep. 

Where can my baby be? 

[Lord, where can he be?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reBq2eudee8)

-

Jinyoung has a complicated relationship with Sundays.

It’s pick up day, only two days since he last saw his son. But he’s quietly ecstatic with the prospect of seeing Yugyeom again; to hold him, kiss him, tell him he loves him. 

That same enthusiasm is what makes Sunday the longest day out of his week by far though. The hours drag by, and Jinyoung becomes more bored and increasingly impatient with the clock perpetually stuck in the stage between soon and _not soon enough_.  

Just today Jinyoung has sat through three and half episodes of Running Man, cleaned the entire apartment, caught up with his e-mail, took a walk, grocery shopped, read a quarter of a small novel _and_ still found himself listless in between activities.  

He often wonders what it is that he did before he had a kid (work non-stop, probably, and make-out with Jaebum).

He’s making the familiar journey across the city to his son. But the traffic is slow over Hangang bridge, and Jinyoung finds himself tapping impatiently at the corded leather of his wheel grips.

He knows it won’t take too long to get to Jaebum’s place, though, once he’s able to escape the bridge and weave through Yongsan’s quiet residential roads.

He pulls into the guest parking lot outside of Jaebum’s apartment with ease, when he does, and the streets are quiet as dusk approaches.

Jinyoung hasn’t texted ahead to say that he was on his way - he doesn’t think there’s any point in it. He’s a creature of habit, and he turns up around the same time each week. It’s one of the principal differences between he and Jaebum, who is a stickler for time-keeping.

He calls to say he’s on his way, calls when plans change, calls so that you know he called. He likes having everything fit into a nice neat box: with expectations laid out clearly and absolutely _no_ surprises.

Jinyoung likes to keep him on his toes. 

He knocks at Jaebum’s front door. It’s big and modern, with a long metal handle running down the length of it and a sleek keypad on the side; Jinyoung’s three knocks seem to disappear into the void.

When Jaebum opens the door he’s barefooted and scratching at the back of his head, in soft looking black sweatpants and a plain grey sleeping shirt.

“Hi,” Jinyoung greets. He’s sure his smile is weak and wan, but for once Jaebum seems too distracted to notice.

“Hey,” he replies, immediately standing back to open the door wider in invitation. “Come in. Yugyeom’s in his room.”

Jinyoung takes a few careful steps forward, stopping just before the risen step, while Jaebum closes the door behind him. He brushes past him to the main part of the hallway, close enough that Jinyoung can feel the heat of his body and breathe in the clean smell of his body wash.

“Is he ready yet?” Jinyoung asks.

Jaebum rubs the palm of his hand against his bristly, dark stubble. He looks tired today, stressed. Jinyoung doesn’t comment on it.

“He’s mostly there,” Jaebum tells him. “It shouldn’t take too long to gather his things. You can sit on the couch while I call for him.”

“Oh, no,” Jinyoung says quickly - almost out of habit. “It’s alright, thank you, but I’ll wait here for him.”

He’s never been in Jaebum’s apartment, not further than the entryway, in any case. It’s-. It’s an odd boundary to draw, he realises, especially since Jaebum is so frequently over at Jinyoung’s place. But it’s an important boundary to him, nevertheless. 

Jinyoung hasn’t put too much thought to it, but if he digs deep, he can hear the whispered apprehensions of having to confront the physical ways in which Jaebum’s life is not _their_ life anymore.  

“He might take a while,” Jaebum presses. “Come in, Jinyoung.”

They look at each other.

A beat passes.

“I don’t want to take my shoes off.”

A thousand and one emotions cross Jaebum’s handsome face, too fast for Jinyoung to read anything more than frustration and disappointment. He looks like he’s about to argue, but then he just sighs, pressing his lips together. He turns without another word and disappears down the hall, turning left into Yugyeom’s room.

Jinyoung bites down on the inside of his lip, wondering if he’s done the right thing. The answer is most definitely no, but he’s stubborn and often unwilling to back down. The tension in his body leaves in a heavy sigh and he wishes things were easier.

But it’s not long until, down the hall, a dark haired little head appears - peeking out around the doorjamb.

Yugyeom smiles bright as soon as he sees Jinyoung, full and happy, and Jinyoung’s smiling back before he even realises it, crouching down with his arms spread.

Yugyeom runs towards him. He’s still unaware of the weight he exerts, so when he catapults into Jinyoung’s arms full force, he makes him rock back on his heels before he can steady them.

Jinyoung gives him a long, tight hug; heart at ease.

“Hi, baby,” he greets softly, putting the kid down on the step. “Are you ready?”

Yugyeom shakes his head, wiggling his toes in his socks.

“Where’s your bag?”

He scratches at his thigh, “Um, Daddy has it.” 

“Okay,” Jinyoung says, looking around at the shoe rack against the wall. Nestled between polished business shoes and a pair of dirtied tennis shoes are a pair of Yugyeom’s velcro-strapped sneakers. “Let’s put your shoes on then.”

He guides Yugyeom to sit on the step and, kneeling in front of him, puts his shoes on for him.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asks, tightening the velcro on his left foot.

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Jinyoung says, and he finds that his inflection rises at the end of his words; unconsciously reflecting Yugyeom’s cute way of speaking. “What did you have?”

Yugyeom hums in thought, small hand holding on to Jinyoung’s shoulder for balance.

“Japchae,” he responds. “Daddy made it for me.”

There’s the quiet snick of a door closing, and Jaebum steps out into the hall holding Yugyeom’s bags. He pads quietly towards them.

“Did you eat it all?”

“Uh huh,” Yugyeom replies, nodding vigorously. “I ate all of it, and then I had ice cream.”

Jinyoung holds on to his hands and gently pulls him up to stand.

From beside him, Jaebum hands him Yugyeom’s coat, and unhooks a child-size LG Twins team scarf.

Jinyoung tries to make it not so obvious that he’s watching him from the corner of his eye as he helps Yugyeom put on his coat.

Jaebum is distracted, thumb rubbing at the softly woven material of Yugyeom’s scarf. His eyes are on their son, but his gaze is distant.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung calls. He gets no answer.

He repeats himself, louder this time, and Jaebum’s eyes flicker to his.

“Yeah?”

Jinyoung looks at him steadily, cataloguing the turmoil written in his distracted expression as easily as he could two years ago.

“Gyeom’s scarf,” he says, extending his hand. “May I?”

Jaebum looks down at the material in his hands like he’d forgotten he was even holding it anymore.

He hands it to Jinyoung, who wraps it around the kid’s neck, tucking the ends into his jacket.

When he stands up, Yugyeom wraps his hands around his thigh, head leaning against his hip.

“Did he take his nap today?” Jinyoung asks Jaebum.

Yugyeom is right around the age to be growing out of them, but he is a much happier child with it worked into his routine. 

“Yeah,” Jaebum answers.

Jinyoung waits, expecting him to say more.

The silence runs on, awkward enough for even Yugyeom to notice - looking between both of his dads with confusion marring his soft face.

Jinyoung drops a hand to run comforting fingers through his hair.

He wonders if Jaebum’s okay.

He shouldn’t ask. He doesn’t particularly want to either, but Jaebum looks so haggard and worried, and it’s not like him to be so wooden in his conversations with Jinyoung. Jinyoung is a natural worrier; he knows he’ll kick himself later if he doesn’t.

He dithers over word choice, and eventually settles on: “Is everything okay?”

Surprise flutters over the other man’s features. He stumbles over his response. “I’m fine.” 

“You-,” Jinyoung starts, watching the way his hand tightens on the handle of Yugyeom’s travel bag. “You don’t seem it. What’s wrong?”

Jaebum takes a moment, struggling with himself.

Jinyoung watches him quietly, patiently. He’s curious.

“Jaebum?” he prompts.

“Can I ask you something?”

Now, the surprised one is Jinyoung. He hadn’t really expected the conversation to take this direction. “Sure.”

Jaebum’s lips part, and Jinyoung can see clearly that he’s struggling to speak.

“Can I-,” he pauses, then looks at Jinyoung for a long while. Then, “Nothing. It-. Nevermind, it’s not important.”

Jinyoung’s eye just about twitches. It is absolutely one of his biggest pet peeves: people not finishing their thoughts when he’s already invested in what they have to say. He _hates_ it.

“It’s okay,” he says, tamping down unnecessary annoyance. “You can tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”  
  
“Jaebum,” he urges. “Finish what you were going to say.”

“I’ve said it doesn’t matter-” 

“Just tell me,” Jinyoung says. “Jaebum-”

“God, take a _hint_ , Jinyoung!” Jaebum snaps.  

Jinyoung startles, mouth snapping shut immediately.

Jaebum’s gaze drops to where Yugyeom’s clinging to Jinyoung, eyes big.

He looks sorry, but he doesn’t verbalise it.

Chastised, Jinyoung bites down on the corner of his mouth before taking a deep breath.

He pats Yugyeom on the back.

“Say goodbye to your Daddy.”

“No,” Jaebum interjects. “I-, I’ll walk you down.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Jinyoung,” he says, waiting until they’ve made eye contact. “I insist.” 

Jinyoung drops his gaze, and nods.

The ride down the elevator is silent. Jinyoung has Yugyeom’s tiny hand in his, thumb rubbing against the soft skin. 

It’s all silence. They leave the elevator in silence, they walk to the car in silence, they buckle Yugyeom into his car seat in silence.

Jinyoung pops up the boot and disappears behind the raised hood, giving Jaebum privacy to say his goodbyes to Yugyeom.

He waits until he hears a muffled ‘I love you,’ and the car door closing before he pulls down the hood, snapping it into place.

He’s walking past Jaebum, towards the driver’s seat, when a strong hand wraps around his bicep and pulls him to a stop.

“Jinyoung-ah,” Jaebum starts, voice low. Jinyoung’s eyes skitter to his. “I’m sorry.”

Jinyoung squirms, testing the grip Jaebum has on him, but the other man has always been stronger.

“Don’t be,” Jinyoung replies. “I was out of line. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“Still,” Jaebum says, releasing him. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“Water under the bridge,” Jinyoung offers with a tight smile. He nods firmly once, and then sidesteps the other man, sliding into his seat. 

Jaebum holds the door open, watching quietly as Jinyoung pulls his seatbelt over himself.

“Drive safe,” Jaebum says, stepping back to close Jinyoung’s door.

Jinyoung reverses out of the parking lot carefully. Yugyeom twists in his car seat, looking out of the window to wave at Jaebum on the lawn until Jinyoung is on the road and they can’t see him anymore.

-

“Did you have fun at your dad’s this weekend?” Jinyoung asks Yugyeom. They’re approaching the last intersection before the bridge, and traffic is slowing again.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom says. He’s not looking at Jinyoung, he has both of his hands placed over his coat, close to his face; he’s picking at something on the back of his left hand. “I had ice cream.” 

Jinyoung hadn’t noticed anything on his hand earlier. He glances at his rear-view mirror quickly, the traffic light up ahead has just changed from green to amber. “What’s that on your hand, Yugyeom?”

“Sticker,” Yugyeom answers, turning his hand to show his father. “It’s Batman. Youngjae hyung gave it to me.”

The light turns red. 

Jinyoung slows the car to a stop. 

He takes a deep, even breath.

“Youngjae hyung?”

Yugyeom doesn’t notice the odd timbre in Jinyoung’s voice. 

“Uh huh,” he’s saying, tracing the edges of his sticker with his finger. “He was at the park with Daddy and me. And he gave me a sticker because I was a good boy.” 

Jinyoung watches him through the rearview mirror, “Does he come to the park with you often?”

Yugyeom shakes his head. “Just today. But he said I can call him hyung.” He frowns, like it just occurred to him, and he looks at Jinyoung in mild panic. “I can’t call him hyung?”

The traffic lights changes to amber, Jinyoung reaches to disengage the handbrake. Green, and he slowly accelerates. 

“You can call him whatever you want, Gyeom-ah.” 

-

The apartment is cold and dark when they get in. Jinyoung heads straight for the temperature system on the wall, whilst Yugyeom runs to the bathroom to go potty. 

Jinyoung dumps Yugyeom’s bags beside the couch, he’ll deal with them later, and sprawls on the couch. It takes a few moments of digging around in the crevices, but eventually he finds the remote for the TV.

He’s just switched it on to KBS’ evening programme when Yugyeom reappears, one of his jean legs hiked up around his calf.

He clambers on top of Jinyoung, settling sleepily in his arms. It’s nearing the time for him to go to bed and that, coupled with the lull of the car ride back, has made him soft and quiet.

Jinyoung loves this. He loves how Yugyeom fits into his hold, how warm he is, how cute. They’ll spend an hour here, cuddling in front of the TV, like they do almost every time he comes back from his dad’s.

Yugyeom places his hands on Jinyoung’s cheeks, bringing his face down until their foreheads are touching and Yugyeom is giggling.

Jinyoung smiles at him, kissing his forehead before pulling back.

“Did you miss Appa?”

Yugyeom glances at him beneath his lashes, mischief in his smile. “No.” 

“You didn’t?” Jinyoung exclaims, mock angry, fingers furrowing under Yugyeom’s shirt for a tickle attack.

Yugyeom, breathless and laughing, scrabbles at Jinyoung’s shirt.

“No! Appa!” he squeals, squirming. “Appa, I missed you! I-, I missed you!”

“Oh, so you did?” Jinyoung stops. Smoothing out his hand over Yugyeom’s stomach. “Well then. Maybe I don’t need to tickle you anymore.” 

Breathlessly, Yugyeom sits up, moving around until he can place his head on Jinyoung’s chest, blinking slowly and heavily. 

Jinyoung drags the blanket he keeps on the couch over the both of them, one arm supporting Yugyeom’s back, chin over the soft hair on the crown of his son’s head.

After an hour, Yugyeom’s dozing peacefully and Jinyoung’s arm is falling asleep. 

He stands carefully and transfers the kid to his bed. Try as he might to be careful, though, Yugyeom ends up waking up as Jinyoung puts him in his pyjamas; he blinks, watching Jinyoung quietly.

Jinyoung smiles at him, finishing up the buttons on his shirt as quickly as he can before placing his teddy next to him and tucking them both in.

He’s turned to switch off the bedside lamp in exchange for the night-light when he hears Yugyeom’s soft, tired voice from behind him. 

“Appa?”

Jinyoung turns to him. “Yeah?”

“I want to ask something.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung replies, leaning down to stroke his hair away from his face. He sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m listening.”

“Why aren’t you and Daddy friends?”

Jinyoung’s hand stops, heart dropping all the way down to his stomach. Yugyeom’s eyes are on his, expectant. But Jinyoung doesn’t have the slightest idea how to address this.

“We are friends, baby,” Jinyoung assures him. Then, carefully he prods further, “Did someone say something to you, is that why you’re asking?”

Yugyeom shakes his head, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Well,” Jinyoung continues, hoping this’ll be the end of it. “Daddy and I _are_ friends, so you don’t have to worry about that, Yugyeom.”

This doesn’t appease his son, in fact, with the furrowed pinch of his brows Jinyoung can tell it frustrates him.

“Then why can’t I live with you and Daddy both?” he asks, fingers wrapping into tight fists on the edge of his blanket. “How come Daddy can’t stay here?”

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung sighs, at a loss. It’s so complicated. “This is the best way for Daddy and I right now. I’m sorry we can’t make it any easier for you, sweetheart, but we both love you very much, and we want to be with you as often as we can.”

“Yerin’s mommy and daddy are friends and she gets to live with them,” Yugyeom counters. “I want to live with you and Daddy too. And-, and-, and her mommy and daddy hold hands and give kisses on the cheek but you don’t do that with Daddy.”

Jinyoung spreads his hands atop the blanket, where Yugyeom’s stomach is, he hopes it can bring him comfort.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” he asks his son. “Not being able to live with the both of us.”

Yugyeom’s mouth twists into a pout, tears beading at his bottom lash. With a gentle thumb, Jinyoung wipes it away. 

“Well, family comes in all shapes and sizes, Gyeom-ah,” Jinyoung says. “Yerin has a mommy and a daddy, Bambam lives with his mommy and his older siblings. You’re an only child and you have two daddies. That’s all okay. It’s okay to have those differences.”

“But-”

“Don’t interrupt,” Jinyoung gently chastises. “Let Appa finish. I know that it’s hard to understand why we don’t live with your Daddy like some of your friends get to do, and I know that it’s really sucky to not be able to have a regular family like that. But Daddy and I have our reasons for not being together. Even though we can’t share some of those reasons with precious little ears,” Jinyoung smiles a little, tweaking Yugyeom’s ear, before he strokes his cheek with his thumb, “I hope you can trust that Daddy and Appa will do whatever we can to make sure you’re always safe and happy.”

Yugyeom blinks away fresh tears, wiping messily at his eyes. He wipes the back of his hand across his runny nose. Jinyoung grabs his elbow before he can smear it everywhere and reaches for the packet of wet wipes in the drawer. He cleans him up quickly, red nose and then the mess on his hand, with Yugyeom’s big, wet eyes trained on him.

“Do you-,” he starts, voice thick. “Do you love Daddy?”

Jinyoung hesitates, placing the used wipe in the bin. He wonders if he should tell his son the truth, or whether to lie to him (and himself).

He exhales.

“I will always love your daddy, Yugyeom,” he says, fingers running through the soft strands of his hair. “Because, no matter what, he’s always going to be your dad. And I love anything and everything to do with you.”

Jinyoung tucks Yugyeom back into his covers.

“Come on now,” he says, voice tender. “You have school tomorrow morning, and you need a good night of sleep. Close your eyes. Appa will stay right here with you until you fall asleep.” 

-

The encounter doesn’t leave Jinyoung’s mind.

And it seems like it doesn’t leave Yugyeom’s either, even though he doesn’t bring it up again.

He’s fine for the most part, but Jinyoung notices how sometimes he inverts into himself, becomes a little more morose and sadder - until Jinyoung helps lift up his mood.

Jinyoung hadn’t realised how many reminders there were in their daily life about their unique situation. In cartoons and TV shows, and even out and about: grocery shopping or at the park, there are reminders of ‘regular’ families everywhere. Yugyeom hasn’t said anything about it but Jinyoung is hyperaware.

It all comes to a head the following Friday afternoon. Jaebum is set to show up any minute and Yugyeom is limp against Jinyoung’s shoulder, almost delirious with how much and how hard he’s crying.

Now, Yugyeom doesn’t tend to cry like this, not often.

He tends to squeeze out a few tears - which Jinyoung lovingly refers to as his son’s crocodile tears - when he’s in the middle of a tantrum, and when he’s upset his eyes get wet, but it’s never like this: full-body sobs that sound like they've been wrenched right from his gut.

Nothing is settling him down.

Jinyoung doesn’t even know _why_ he’s crying, he fell over but caught himself on his knees. Not enough for it to hurt, and certainly not enough for this reaction. It feels like he’s been at it for hours (although it’s only been around forty minutes). 

Jinyoung's ears are ringing and he has a headache burgeoning right behind his eyelids but he rubs Yugyeom’s back and paces back and forth around the apartment.

He’s just worried he’s going to cry himself sick; he’s hiccoughing between his wails, chest stuttering against Jinyoung’s. 

When Jaebum turns up, Jinyoung almost sags in relief. He hands him over immediately.

Jaebum automatically takes the kid. He resists at first - fingers tightening on Jinyoung until he realises he’s not being put down. Jaebum places him against himself, arms wrapping around his small body.

Jinyoung feels bad, but he’s so grateful to be able to hand Yugyeom off for a little while. He steps into the bathroom, closes the door behind him, leans against it, closes his eyes and just breathes. 

His ears are still ringing.

He stands there for a long time, palms fitted against his eye sockets to block out the light. And then, he realises Yugyeom’s not crying anymore. 

Gingerly, he pads into the living room to find Jaebum sprawled on the couch, his shoes still on, stroking Yugyeom’s temple.

He looks up when Jinyoung steps through the threshold, pressing his lips together in a cautious smile.

“He fell asleep,” he tells him quietly, not being able to resist peeking at Yugyeom’s cute face - soft cheeks smushing his lips into a pout. “Must have tired himself out, poor baby.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung mutters. It’s hard to speak with the heavy ball of resentment and jealousy sitting on his chest. Yugyeom was inconsolable with him, but not even ten minutes with his father and he falls right asleep.

“Are you okay?” Jaebum asks, looking at him.

“Fine,” Jinyoung replies, flat. “Headache.”

“Oh,” Jaebum says, forehead creasing in worry. “I’m sorry. Would you-. Would you like me to put him in his bed, now?” 

“Why would you do that?”  

Jaebum adjusts his hold on Yugyeom.

“Isn’t he staying?” he asks, and Jinyoung doesn’t know if he’s being serious or if he’s being facetious. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to take him away when he’s like this.”

“We have an agreement,” Jinyoung says slowly. He’s still not sure if this is some kind of veiled dig at his parenting. “I’m not going to take away your time with your son, even if I would like to stay with him.” 

Jaebum looks at him.

“Ours,” he says. “Our son, Jinyoung.”

Later, Jinyoung helps Jaebum take the kid down to the car, placing a blanket over his car seat, before waving them off. He cancels his plans for dinner with his friends and slinks into bed instead.

He doesn’t sleep well. In fact, he sleeps terribly every single night until Sunday, when he has Yugyeom back.

He seems fine now, like his crying episode never even happened. And Jinyoung knows that this is just how children are - they bounce back fast - but it’s still hard to reconcile the miserable little thing he’d kissed goodbye last Friday with the hyperactive, happy kid currently wreaking havoc on his living room floor.

Jinyoung lets Yugyeom sleep in his bed with him, a very rare treat indeed, but it’s worth it to see the way the four-year old luxuriates in Jinyoung’s sheets: stretching out, and crawling all over the place until Jinyoung pins him down and cuddles him still.

- 

Jinyoung’s in the middle of a work meeting when his phone rings. It’s on vibrate, but the head of the marketing department is talking loudly enough with the art director at the front of the room that the sound is masked to all but the not-so-useless-but-still-annoying intern sitting beside him.

He’s not really supposed to have his phone on him during meetings, but he has a son and he needs his phone just in case anything ever happens. 

Discreetly, he slides his phone out of his dress pants only far enough to end the call. Two minutes later, his phone buzzes again; long and solid, but only once: a text.

The intern next to him bristles. In his head Jinyoung religiously chants ‘two more months, two more months,’ and tries to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. He can’t wait for their internship programme to end this year.

It’s only when he gets back to his office that he can check the call. He closes the door and sighs into his leather seat. 

Both the call and the text are from Jaebum, an ominous ‘call me’ is all the latter contains.

Jinyoung calls immediately, worried that something might have happened at Yugyeom’s nursery.

The line rings three times, and then, “Jinyoung.”

“Hi,” he replies, fiddling with the papers on his desk. “Is something wrong?” 

“No,” Jaebum says. Jinyoung notes, not for the first time, that his voice deeper through the phone. “I need to talk to you, though. Do you have time?”

“Now?”

“Yes. Face to face.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung cautiously agrees, this is not what he was expecting. “There’s a restaurant-” 

“No restaurants,” Jaebum interrupts. Then he catches himself, “Please. I would appreciate some privacy.” 

“Right,” Jinyoung says, curiosity gnawing at him. “Well, you can come by my apartment. I could meet you there?”

Through the line, Jaebum’s sigh is crackly - but Jinyoung reads the quiet exasperation in it clear as day. 

“You’re closer to Yongsan than you are to Yangcheon. Just come over to my place.” 

“Jaebum-”

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum pleads. “Please?”

“Okay,” he relents; reluctant but agreeable. “Okay, I’ll be there soon.” 

He gets the stink-eye from his manager when he pops his head in her office to let her know that he’ll need to be out for the afternoon. But he’s not that worried, he doesn't have any more meetings and he doesn’t really have much to do other than paperwork this afternoon anyway, so he’ll just shuffle it around to the interns.

The drive over to Jaebum’s place is mildly stressful, because there is always _some_ level of traffic in Seoul at any time during the day.  

Finally though, he arrives. 

Jaebum opens the door almost as soon as he knocks on it. He’s holding a dish towel, cleaning his hands of soapy residue.

“I was washing the dishes,” he explains, even though he doesn’t really need to. “And I saw your car parked from my window.”

Jinyoung’s only half listening, toeing off his shoes. He puts them on the rack by the wall, next to a pair of tiny rubber slippers, and he can’t resist straightening out the shoes Jaebum had clearly very recently tossed in there without a care in the world.

When he looks up, Jaebum’s looking at him with a small, knowing smile curling the edges of his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, and then he beckons Jinyoung to follow him to the kitchen.

Jinyoung hesitates. He’s glad Jaebum’s back is turned to him, because this is really stupid.

Seriously. 

It’s just a hallway, it’s just a house and he just has a dumb complex about it all.

He steels himself and cautiously places one foot down on the smooth wood flooring. And ...

Honestly?

It’s a lot more anticlimactic than he was expecting. 

So he places one foot after another, walking mechanically towards the door Jaebum disappeared into with his heart pounding. 

The living room is wide open to the right, with a huge fabric corner-couch taking up majority of the space, floor-to-ceiling windows with soft, billowy curtains, and pictures of Yugyeom atop the small decorative tables on either side.

There are more pictures of Yugyeom pinned to Jaebum’s fridge, Jinyoung notices when he walks in, including a photobooth strip of the two of them at Lotte World, Yugyeom with chocolate smeared over his wide-grinning mouth.

There are two mugs already placed on the table, a kettle that’s just finished boiling on the counter.

It smells like cinnamon tea when Jaebum prepares it for him. Jinyoung doesn’t touch it yet; it’s too hot right now and he’s much more interested in the way that Jaebum fidgets in the seat in front of him.

“Is this about anything Yugyeom said?” Jinyoung asks, thinking back to his questions the other week.

“No,” Jaebum frowns. “Is there something I should know about?”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

He is very unwilling to open up that can of worms again. So he diverts the topic. “What’s wrong?” 

“Do you remember when I wanted to ask you something?” Jaebum says. “The week before last?”

“Yeah?”

Jaebum sighs, eyes on his mug. He flicks the handle.

“There’s a conference happening soon,” he says, glancing at Jinyoung. He’s not entirely sure why Jaebum is telling him this. “It’s split into two parts, one in LA and one in New York. It’s going to be a great opportunity for producers and songwriters from all over the world to meet. Big names are going to be there, lots of investors there, great chance to network. I got an invitation to represent my company. So I’m going to go.”

Jaebum pauses here, holding his breath as he gauges Jinyoung’s reaction.

But Jinyoung doesn’t know _how_ to react. He doesn’t understand why Jaebum dragged him all the way out here for that.

“Okay,” he says eventually, a little bewildered. “Congratulations.”

Jaebum nods.

“Um,” he continues, adjusting in his seat. “There are a few weeks between each part of the conference. But JYPE is just going to send the team out there for a month. Two weeks in LA, another two in New York.”

It dawns on Jinyoung. 

“Oh,” he responds, much more sympathetic. He leans forward in his seat, moving his mug further into the centre. “Have you spoken to Yugyeom yet?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum laughs, but there’s no humour in it. He scrubs his palm over his jaw. “I don’t think he really understood what I was trying to say, though.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Three weeks.”

“Right,” Jinyoung tells him, mind moving a mile a minute. “Well, I can help you figure out a way to explain to him that you’ll be away for so long.”

Jaebum looks at Jinyoung, carefully.

“That’s not it.”

Jinyoung frowns, “What do you mean that’s not it?”

Jaebum takes a visibly deep breath.

“I want to take him with me.”

It feels like someone just poured a bucket of freezing cold water over Jinyoung’s head. His heart stops, then starts beating double time.

“What?”

“I want to take Yugyeom with me,” Jaebum repeats, eyes on Jinyoung. “To America.”  

Jinyoung exhales a laugh, it’s two parts disbelief and one part pure unbridled shock. “No.”

Jaebum’s face falls, like he was expecting it (but still hoping otherwise).

“Jinyoung,” he starts.

“ _No_ ,” Jinyoung returns, firm. He stands up too quickly from the table, his knee collides with the underside painfully, and the tea in Jinyoung’s mug spills a generous amount over Jaebum’s white tablecloth, soaking through and exposing the wood surface.

"Jinyoung," Jaebum stands up after him. “Would you please just listen to me?”

“Listen to you?” Jinyoung challenges. His voice is getting dangerously loud, so he tries to tone it back down. “ _You_ listen to you. You want to take my son to America, for a _month_. Are you crazy?”

“ _Our_ son, Jinyoung,” Jaebum spits. “I have just as much say in what goes on in his life as you do.”

“You can have a say in his life,” Jinyoung tells him, fists tight. “But you’re not taking him to America.”

He brushes past Jaebum, only to be caught with a hand gripping tight at his arm. Jaebum pulls him back until they’re practically chest to to chest.

“Why won’t you even consider it?” Jaebum asks, caught between anger and desperation. “I just want to spend some time with him. It’s a chance for him to go see some of the world.”

“He’s _four_ , Jaebum,” Jinyoung retorts, snatching his arm back from the other man’s grip. He stumbles slightly, catching himself on the table. “I’m not even sure he knows what America _is,_ nevermind whether or not he wants to go stay there for a month. I don’t know anything about this trip. I don’t even know who you’re going with, or staying with, and you expect me to just agree?”

“It’s not like I’m going to put him in danger,” Jaebum seethes, jaw setting tight in irritation. He always was very easy to piss off. “You’ve met everyone on my team apart from one person and I very much doubt Youngjae is going to pose a risk.”

This stops Jinyoung short. His knee throbs. His cheeks feel hot.

“Youngjae?” he asks, voice thin. “The guy you’re fucking?”

Surprise colours Jaebum’s face. Jinyoung's not sure whether Jaebum’s surprise comes from the fact that he swore, or that he knows.

Check and mate, Jinyoung thinks.

“He’s-,” Jaebum presses his lips together, uncomfortable. “He’s a friend.”

Jinyoung raises his brows cynically. “You fuck your friends often?”

“This one, yes,” Jaebum snaps, his eyes are hard when Jinyoung meets his. “But what I do with my life has nothing to do with you.”

Jinyoung knows this, of course he does. It doesn’t stop him from feeling a lash of hurt rebounding across his entire body when he hears it though.

“I don’t care who you’re sleeping with, Jaebum,” he says, past the lump in his throat. “I don’t care who your friends are. I only care who you’re bringing in around Yugyeom.”

Jaebum scoffs, and Jinyoung can tell he’s just about reaching that stage in his anger where his filter disintegrates and his words cut deep.

“Don’t act like you haven’t slept with anyone else since we broke up.”

“No,” Jinyoung says. “But I didn’t bring him home to meet my son, either.”

Jaebum scrapes his hair back, visibly angry.

“This isn’t even the point of this conversation,” he’s telling Jinyoung, voice getting louder again. “I’m not planning to take him away forever. He already lives with you full time, and I’m left to make the best of what I can with the time that I have. You’re being unfair-”

Jinyoung bristles. “ _I’m_ being unfair?”

“Yes,” Jaebum seethes, the little kitchen and the space between them has suddenly become a pressure room with no escape - it’s heavy and suffocating.

Distantly, Jinyoung thinks that their arguments were never this ugly until they broke up.

“Because,” he asks incredulously, “I don’t want my toddler to spend a month away from me?”

He’s so indignant he can feel tears pricking at his eyes.

“How do you think I feel when I have to go days - _weeks_ \- without seeing him, Jinyoung?” Jaebum demands, visibly as frustrated as Jinyoung feels. His voice is lower, almost pleading. “Sometimes I can’t even see him on the few days I have with-”

“That’s the nature of _your_ work,” Jinyoung interrupts. “That has nothing to do with me.”

Jaebum grits his teeth, exasperated. “You’re being selfish.”

Jinyoung feels like he’s just been slapped across the face.

His lips tremble. “Selfish?”

“You see him almost every single day,” Jaebum is saying. “And you won’t even _consider_ having a decent conversation about this. I don’t get to see our son as often as you do-”

Something snaps in Jinyoung. His voice is deceptively steady, even though Jinyoung feels like he’s vibrating out of his body.

“You left _us_ , Jaebum.”

He doesn’t yell, but his words stop the conversation dead.

Jaebum’s mouth snaps shut, anger draining out of him like it wasn't even there at all. He looks shell-shocked.

Ashamed.

Guilty.

The kitchen is silent - you could hear a pin drop - and Jinyoung’s vision is cloudy with the tears of pure anger he’s repressing. He takes a wobbly breath.

“So don’t you talk to me about being selfish.”

He takes a step back before turning on his heel and storming out of the apartment. He doesn’t pause to put on his dress shoes when he reaches the entryway, just grabs them by their leather heel and opens up the front door.

Jinyoung’s not even sure he’s closed it properly as he stumbles down the communal hallway towards the elevator.

He’s too wound-up to care, he just needs to get out of this building.

The elevator is only three stories above him when he calls for it. He throws his shoes on the floor, shoving in his feet as quickly as he can.

The elevator dings, opening heavily.

Just as Jinyoung steps in though, there’s a crash of a body against Jaebum’s front door, and his head jerks up - making eye contact with Jaebum.

“Jinyoung,” he yells, and then he’s running down the hallway towards him. “Jinyoung, _wait_ _._ ”

Jinyoung panics, jabbing at the door close button until the doors start to jerk shut.

The corridor, with its plush red carpeting is long. Jinyoung sees the anguish in Jaebum’s face, but the doors shut before he can reach him.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> does this even make sense? 
> 
> (p.s. just as a heads up, i most probably won't be able to upload the next chapter as quick as i did this one. from wednesday onwards, i'm gonna be hella (like hella) busy. i'll try my best though!) 
> 
> let me know what you think, and go leave got7 some love ^.^


	3. Make It To me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's happily pretend that there's a hanok tea house in the middle of nowhere, Suraksan Mountain, Nowon-gu. It's the only way this story makes sense.

I'm waiting patiently though time is moving slow, 

I have one vacancy and I wanted you to know that, 

[You're the one designed for me.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULPDq02zavs)

-

Jinyoung is lagging behind. His hair is frizzing up at the ends, he’s out of breath and feeling entirely too hot for someone whose cheeks are being rubbed raw by Suraksan Mountain’s bitter cold air.  
  
Setting one hiking sneaker on the smooth rounded surface of a rock, Jinyoung pauses, popping off the cap of his water bottle before chugging down the contents.  
  
He hates retreats.  
  
He thinks he hates his friends a little more though.  
  
They’ve separated into loose groups in the two hours they’ve been hiking. It’s a quiet Saturday, possibly because it’s so cold, so it’s just them and the snow-capped nature of the mountain.  
  
They wander slowly over the trail. Suji is way up ahead with Hyunwoo, her hair tied up in a ponytail.  
  
Momo is standing at the edge of the rock cliff, taking a picture with her bulky camera as Mark watches over her carefully.  
  
Mark’s girlfriend, Ahyeon, waits for them a little way away - not wanting to get close to the edge.  
  
Jackson and Minhyuk are off the trail, on the other side, exploring the rocks formations in the bushy grove.  
  
Jinyoung brings up the rear, trying to take it all in.  
  
He had agreed to come because he wanted to clear his mind. Now that the anger has left him, he’s just stressed and saddened.

His friends have given him space, noting how he preferred to be alone today.    
  
He hasn’t told them what happened, but he suspects they know anyway.

News travels fast when you share the same friends as your estranged ex.  
  
Jinyoung had avoided Mark most of all. He hasn’t really spoken to him since dropping Yugyeom off at his and Ahyeon’s apartment the day before (because Jinyoung wasn’t sure he could face Jaebum) but he knows he’s worried.  
  
Their friendship hasn’t fully mended yet, and Jinyoung isn’t sure it ever will - at least, he doesn’t think it’ll ever get back to how it used to be.  
  
It’s an unfortunate casualty of the demise of his and Jaebum’s relationship.  
  
Jinyoung had noticed, of course, the way that Jaebum’s nights at work grew longer, for months before anything ever happened.  
  
But he’d thought-. He’d thought work was piling up. That Jaebum’s stress and irritability was coming from a place of too much work.  
  
At first, Jaebum always used to call; tired voice seeping through the phone that Jinyoung held tight against his ear.  
  
“I’ll be home late,” he would say. “You need your sleep, so don’t wait up for me.”  
  
He’d stay silent as Jinyoung would press him for more answers, only repeating a sincere, dull, “I’m sorry, Jinyoung.”  
  
Jinyoung would be _so_ angry. He'd curse him out, snapping off a goodbye before hanging up.  
  
Though, that gradually stopped too. When Jaebum didn’t call — and when he didn’t answer Jinyoung’s calls either— that’s when Jinyoung started to panic.  
  
Much later, Jinyoung had waited at the kitchen table, hour after hour, deep into the night. Hands trembling as he reached for his phone when it finally rang, Mark’s name emblazoned on the front.  
  
“Hyung,” he’d said, as soon as he’d picked up. “Where is he?”  
  
Mark had sighed, long and deep.  
  
Jinyoung could hear Ahyeon’s soft voice in the background urging him on.  
  
“He’s here,” Mark had said to him, gentle, gentle, gentle. “I don’t think he’s going back. I’m sorry, Jinyoung-ah.”  
  
Jinyoung’s grip had tightened on his phone, other hand covering his eyes, elbows on the cool surface of the table.  
  
His chest had stuttered, then opened wide - like a sinkhole. He was crying before he could even try and stop it; heaving with tears down the phone, and he just couldn’t stop.  
  
The fresh air burns his sinuses when he breathes in, big and deep. And although he can admit that the walk is helping, he can’t wait until they pile back into their two rented jeeps at the bottom of the trail and head back into the city.  
  
It takes another half hour of Jinyoung’s careful, slow steps before the path opens up and there’s a large cultivated clearing.  
  
His friends are milling about, waiting for him, when he arrives.  
  
The trail picks up again some way away, disappearing into a cove of trees and bare bushes. Behind where his friends are gathering in a loose circle is a big hanok made of pale brown wood and a tall grey-tiled roof.  
  
It has a dinky little sign over one of the entrances nearest to Jinyoung, announcing the ‘tearoom’ in thin hangul script.  
  
“Jinyoung-ah,” Ahyeon calls, grasping for his jacket sleeve. “Come here.”  
  
Her hair is in a low messy braid, curling over the thick padding of her white jacket. Standing next to her Jinyoung can hear the tinny music coming from her earphones, it’s her own voice but it’s nothing he’s ever heard before - probably a demo she’s working on.  
  
“The hike is going to take another two and a half hours to reach the peak,” she tells him, but the group is listening too. “I’m gonna hang out here, though, there’s a small museum and coffee. What do you want to do?”  
  
Jinyoung’s thighs are burning, and he’s famished. They can always come hike again.  
  
“I’ll stay,” he says, and she nods, like that's what she wanted to hear.  
  
From the other side of the circle Jackson sneers, “Chicken.”  
  
Jinyoung sneers back, false-starts just to see Jackson jump.  
  
“I’m staying too,” Momo says, waving her camera around in wordless explanation.  
  
Suji tightens her ponytail.  
  
“Okay, is that everyone?” she asks. “We should head up, then.”  
  
The group begins to move, separating into two clusters.  
  
“I’ll stay, as well,” Hyunwoo announces, surprising everyone.  
  
Minhyuk turns around, locking eyes with his boyfriend. Their communication is brief and wordless, but it's laced with private tension.

Jinyoung catches Suji’s eye, she noticed too.  
  
“Let’s go then,” she says, loudly, diverting attention. She slaps Jackson on the back of the head. “What are you waiting for, slowpoke?”

“You’re so annoying,” Jackson complains, swatting at her arm. “Who died and made you captain of this excursion?”

“It’s you,” Suji says, pushing him away. “You’ll be my human sacrifice.” 

Mark slaps them both upside the head before pushing past them. “The trail is this way.”

They start heading towards where the trail picks up again.

Slowly, Minhyuk follows after Mark. He tosses a lingering glance back, but Hyunwoo is already walking towards the hanok.

-

The tearoom is wide and dark. It’s not very busy. There’s a group of foreign hikers right at the back, and a smaller group of ahjummas in brightly coloured gym clothes and carefully coiffed curls sipping tea, a bored teenager manning the till.

The entryway is just a big anteroom with shoe shelves on either side of the walls, waist high. Hyunwoo and Ahyeon have already entered the room proper, and are at the counter preparing to order.

Momo is struggling to unlace her hiking boots, the camera looped around her neck getting in the way. She overbalances, and Jinyoung grabs the back of her jacket so she doesn’t faceplant on the heated floor.

“Thanks,” she says, sheepishly.

Jinyoung has already placed his own shoes in one of the provided boxes. He watches her kneel down to take off her other one.

“What’s this called?” she asks him.

“What’s what called?”

“This.”

“What?”

She stamps her foot on the floor, exasperated. “This thing. This place where we’re standing. I forgot what it’s called.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung says, he’s playing with her a little. He gestures to the polished wood of the room they’re in, the hanji that makes up the room divider. “This place?”

She frowns, her pout is so cute. “Oppa.”

Jinyoung smiles, makes sure his pronunciation is clear: “Hyeon-gwan.”

She repeats it after him, then lower, to herself. She sits fully on the floor, bringing her leg over her other one and close to her face as she struggles to pull of her boot.

With a bit of brute strength she manages, almost hitting herself in the face.

“In Japanese this is called a _genkan_ ,” Momo says, rolling her wayward sock back over the heel of her foot. She says it so prettily, in that flowery voice of hers.  
  
“You take off your shoes,” she continues. “Leaving the dirt and the nastiness behind, before you enter. You don’t take it with you.”

She extends a hand, Jinyoung pulls her up.

When they enter, they order their tea quickly, and go sit at the table where the others are.

They drink quietly amongst themselves, and Jinyoung basks in being able to just relax in warmth, stretching his legs out.

Ahyeon and Momo are more restless though, and as soon as they clear off their drinks they’re on their feet - eager to explore the museum.

It’s more of a tourist shop than anything else, from what Jinyoung can see.

It follows the same polished wood decor of the tearoom, a few hiking books on display, a tiny monitor playing a video clip (clearly shot before Jinyoung was even born) showing the history of the mountain and the hanok.

Towards the front there are two racks of commercially printed t-shirts. “I ❤ SEOUL” proclaims one, in a gaudy western lettering. “SURAKSAN MOUNTAIN IS ❤” claims the other. It breaks the vibe, somewhat, Jinyoung thinks.

He sighs heartily. Taking another sip of his sweet tea.

Hyunwoo is making his second cup of coffee. He has his cup in front him and a small French press. Jinyoung watches him press the lever down, relieving the pressure.

“Are you going to just sit there and watch me?” Hyunwoo asks. He’s not looking up. Jinyoung wasn’t even aware that he was aware Jinyoung was watching him.

“It’s really creepy when you do that,” Jinyoung tells him, slurping annoyingly at his tea.

Hyunwoo laughs, small eyes folding into that familiar crescent shaped smile.

“Not much creepier than you watching me in silence,” he says. “How’s Yugyeom?”

Jinyoung smiles, “Good. He misses you, you should come by the apartment.”

“I will,” he promises. “Soon. I miss him too.”

“He’s growing so fast, hyung,” Jinyoung can’t help but gush. “He’s so cute.”

“He’ll be taller than you one day,” Hyunwoo comments, pouring his coffee into his mug.

“No,” Jinyoung makes a noise of indignation. “He’s forbidden.”

He wants Yugyeom to be small and cute forever.

Hyunwoo finally sits back in his chair, coffee properly prepared.

“How’s life?” he asks.

“Revolving around my son and my work,” Jinyoung responds, shrugging lightly. “Same as always. You?”

“Is that all?” Hyunwoo bypasses the question, taking a sip at his coffee.

Jinyoung narrows his eyes, knowing him all too well not see this as anything other than a carefully (if poorly) crafted nudge towards a certain topic.

“If you have something to ask me,” Jinyoung says, arms folding on the table, “then I would appreciate it if you just asked me directly, hyung.”

Hyunwoo sighs, caught. He was never very good at stealth tactics of conversation.

“I heard you had an argument with Jaebum,” he confesses. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” Jinyoung furrows his brows. “Why wouldn't I be? He made a request, I rejected it. The story is over now, done.”

“What was the request?”

Jinyoung exhales on a humourless laugh, “He wants to take Yugyeom to America for a month. He has a conference there or something. Crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo responds, but it’s not as indignant as Jinyoung was expecting. He looks at him in confusion.

“Hyung?”

“What did Yugyeom say?”

Jinyoung places his tea down. “About what?”

“About the trip.”

“I didn’t ask him,” Jinyoung says.

He frowns, and then when Hyunwoo remains silent, he frowns harder.

“Hyung, he’s four, and he loves his dad. Of course he’d jump at chance to go - that doesn’t mean it’s the right choice. It’s a _month_.”

“A month is long time to go without seeing your son,” Hyunwoo concedes.

“Yes,” Jinyoung says pointedly. “It is.”

“For both of you.”

Jinyoung blinks at him, mouth slackening in surprise.

He should have seen this coming.

Son Hyunwoo, diplomatic to a fault.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Hyunwoo sighs, “Jinyoung…”

“No, seriously,” Jinyoung tells him, glad they’re sitting far from the other customers. “Spit it out. I can feel you judging me from across the table.”

“I just-,” Hyunwoo scratches at his nose bridge, and then seems to steel himself, meeting Jinyoung eye for eye. “Are you sure you’re making this decision because you want what’s best for Yugyeom, or are you doing it because you want to punish Jaebum?”

Jinyoung grits his teeth, too angry to respond. He takes a breath to calm himself, careful not to raise his voice.

“I can’t believe you’re defending him.”

“No,” Hyunwoo says immediately, moving his coffee aside so that he can crowd in closer to Jinyoung over the table. “I’m not defending him. Jinyoung, you know better than anyone that I’m here for you, same as I have been all these years. I’d punch him for you, you know that.”

Jinyoung presses his lips together tight, trying to smother a smile that creeps up despite his vexation. “I heard that you did.”

Very, _very_ hard and several times, going by what Suji told Jinyoung.

Hyunwoo looks sheepish, he doesn’t lose his temper often, and he likes talking about it even less so.

“Yes, well,” he clears his throat. “He deserved it.”

Jinyoung softens, tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

“Then I don’t get why you’re saying this.”

“Because, the difference between a good decision and one you might end up regretting is having your heart in the right place.”

Jinyoung’s fidgets, swallowing heavily, he never took well to being chastised.

His voice is not as strong as he’d like it to be, but he chokes out, “I’m trying my best, hyung.”

“I know you are,” Hyunwoo says. “You’re _doing_ your best, too. We can all see that, Jinyoung.” He pauses, considering his next words carefully. “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear. But you should think about this carefully - think about why you’re making the decision that you are, and for who.”

“Of course it’s not what I want to hear,” Jinyoung replies. “I thought my hyung would be on my side.”

“I _am_ on your side,” Hyunwoo says, so patient. “That’s why I’m telling you this. I don’t want you to become someone who is embittered, who makes decisions for Yugyeom on the basis of what Jaebum did. That’s not going to make you happy in the long run.”

Jinyoung doesn’t know how to respond, he feels cornered. Eventually, he settles on, “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“I know,” Hyunwoo assures him.

Jinyoung looks at him. “But…?”

“But,” Hyunwoo continues. “When Yugyeom comes up to you in a few years' time, and he asks you why he wasn’t able to spend that much time with his dad, are you going to be able to look him in the eye and say that you did it for his own good?”

Jinyoung’s heartbeat speeds up, it's so loud, he doesn't know how Hyunwoo doesn't hear it trying to beat out of his chest.

“I’m not-,” he stops, collects himself. “I’m not being selfish.”

“No, you’re not,” Hyunwoo says. “Of course you’re not, Jinyoung-ah. Jaebum did an awful, horrible thing. No-one would be surprised if you hated him forever. You _should_ ,” Hyunwoo emphasises. “But, you shouldn’t punish him by not letting him be a father. Not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because you would be punishing Yugyeom too.”

Jinyoung breathes unsteadily, wraps his hand around his tea cup, it’s gone cold now.

“I’m not saying you should let him take your kid away for a month,” Hyunwoo goes on to say. “That _is_ crazy. I’m just saying you should make sure your ‘no’ is for the right reasons. Do you remember the last time we had this conversation?”

Yes. Jinyoung remembers. It was a few months after his disastrous break up. A few months after Jaebum had shown up at the door of what was their apartment late one night with purpling bags under his eyes and a scruffy stubble over his jawline.

He hadn’t been able to look Jinyoung in the eye, but Jinyoung still remembers exactly the way he looked: lips dry, nervous tongue washing over them.

He can still remember the sound of his voice when he’d asked, quietly, “Can I see him?”

Jinyoung didn’t think he’d ever seen Jaebum look so vulnerable. There was a mean coil in gut though, urging him to kick him when he was down, to shut the door in his face and get back to packing up their things.

Jinyoung almost did it, hand twitching where he held the door open - he thinks Jaebum noticed it too. But he had suppressed it, and stepped back to allow Jaebum into the apartment.

Yugyeom was asleep, so small in his big-boy bed. Jaebum had kneeled down beside him, shoulders shaking with hushed tears. Gently, he’d kissed Yugyeom’s soft cheeks, ran his hand over his back, breathed him in.

It had been two long weeks since he’d last seen him, not for lack of trying.

Jinyoung stood at the threshold of the door into their son’s room, and watched over them.

For the next few weeks, Jaebum saw Yugyeom infrequently and for short amounts of time. He didn’t complain, though, not once, he only swallowed down the bitterness radiating from Jinyoung and hugged Yugyeom tighter with each goodbye.

Hyunwoo had cornered Jinyoung soon enough, sat him down just like this and made Jinyoung really think about what he was doing.

'I know you’re hurting,' he’d told Jinyoung. 'But you have a child between you. He needs you both, and he needs you to be rational about this.'

“Do you remember?” Hyunwoo asks him now.

“Yes,” Jinyoung says, and he recites, “‘Be an adult, do it for Yugyeom’. I will, hyung.”

Hyunwoo nods once, firmly, content with Jinyoung’s answer.

He gathers their things, ready to dispose of them. When he stands Jinyoung reaches out a hand, catching Hyunwoo by the arm.

“Hyung?”

Hyunwoo glances at him.

“Thank you.”

Hyunwoo smiles, “Come on,” he says, “let’s see what the girls are up to.”

-

One of Jinyoung’s worst qualities has to be his ability to make himself do things that he doesn’t want to do. 

He’s in his car, after having dropped Yugyeom off at Suji’s. He’s parked outside Jaebum’s building, cursing himself out as he methodically undoes his seatbelt and pops open the car door.  
  
It feels almost like an out-of-body experience as he rides the elevator up to the right floor and walks the precise number of steps it takes to get to Jaebum’s front door.  
  
But Hyunwoo is right. Jinyoung is an adult, and they have a child between them. He needs to work this out; the sooner the better.  
  
His knocks are perfunctory and sharp, and he steels himself when the door swings open.  
  
He’s greeted by a loud voice, full of laughter.  
  
“It’s about time,” says ... not-Jaebum. “Hyung, I’m _starving_.”    
  
Floppy brown hair, a dark sweater over light-wash distressed jeans, and a wide smile that freezes as soon as it realises it’s not who it was expecting.

“Oh,” the other man says, confusion written all over his face. “Are you here to see Jaebum hyung?”  
  
Jinyoung looks at him, heart cataloguing all the differences between them.  
  
“Yeah,” he answers, a beat to late. He clears his throat. “Yes. Is he here?”  
  
“Ah, no,” the other man answers, but he steps back to open the door wider. He smiles again, trusting. “You’re welcome to stay and wait though. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”  
  
“I’m alright,” Jinyoung says, he feels like he’s being stand-offish but he can’t quite switch it off. “Thanks.”  
  
The other man's smile shrinks, and he shifts uncomfortably in the awkward silence that follows.

Jinyoung bites down on the inside of his lip, but ultimately he can’t help but ask, “And you are?”  
  
“Oh,” the man startles, like he’s forgotten about introductions altogether. His hand immediately juts out for a handshake, other arm folding politely across his stomach. “Youngjae. I’m hyung’s friend.”  
  
Jinyoung hesitates, he was expecting that to be the answer but it still feels odd putting a face to the name.

Youngjae looks uncertain. He’s about to pull his hand back when Jinyoung gathers his wits, placing his hand in the other’s embrace.

He doesn’t know if he’s expecting fireworks or an electric current to pass through the both of them - but it just feels oddly anticlimactic. Youngjae’s hand feels warm and dry; it’s a hand, and nothing much more than that.

“I’m Jinyoung.”  
  
Youngjae’s gaze snaps up to meet his. His lips part even as they stand there, in those few seconds of clasped hands, before Jinyoung retreats.  
  
He’s so expressive, so open. Jinyoung can read apprehension all over his face, his distress in the line of his body.  
  
“Oh,” Youngjae says, a little more guarded this time. “You can-, You’re still welcome to wait inside. Hyung will be back soon. He’s just gone to get some food.” He gestures behind him, to the sitting room that Jinyoung can’t see. “We were just working. Honestly, I just came by because we need to finish our presentation materials for the conference soon, and hyung’s house is quieter than the company building so we-”

“It’s alright,” Jinyoung interrupts, trying not to be abrupt - he’s not sure it worked. Youngjae goes quiet.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Jinyoung says. “It’s none of my business.”  
  
Youngjae blinks at him, uncomfortable.  
  
There’s another awkward silence, and it’s clear Youngjae doesn’t really know what to say now. Jinyoung presses his lips together.

“I’ll be going. Please tell Jaebum to call me when he can, I need to speak to him.”

Jinyoung turns to go, but pauses, glancing back at the doorway. “Goodnight, Youngjae. It was nice to meet you.”  
  
He walks away fast, before the other man can reply, and bypasses the elevator completely - pushing open the door of the stairs - cool air enveloping him as soon as he starts making his way down.

-

He picks Yugyeom up from Suji's much sooner than he'd anticipated. Two hours later, Jinyoung sits on his couch in the living. 

On his lap is the dinky little calendar he’d received with a Christmas Day delivery from the noodle place down the street and just shoved in a drawer in his kitchen until now.

Yugyeom is playing with his toy cars on the coffee table, so when he zooms past, Jinyoung grabs him by the arm and pulls him into his embrace.

Yugyeom wriggles in his hold, wanting to go back to playing, but Jinyoung just places him in his lap.

“Wait,” Jinyoung says, struggling with thirty five pounds of wriggly baby. “Yugyeom, Appa wants to ask you something. Can I?”

The kid stops struggling, he nearly headbutts Jinyoung while trying to sit up though.

"Okay," he says sweetly.

“Okay,” Jinyoung sighs in agreement, “look at this.”

Jinyoung opens up the calendar, it’s made of thick cardboard and has a deep red border around the white squares of the dates. There’s a cartoon tub of noodles in varying poses on each of the pages.

“What is it?” Yugyeom asks, slapping his hand on each page as Jinyoung flicks through it.

“This is a calendar,” Jinyoung tells him. “It’s part of the way we divide our time, so that we know when Yugeommie needs to go school, or when he has a dentist appointment, or when Appa has vacation from work.”

“A calendar?” Yugyeom says, the syllables don’t come out quite in the right order or in the correct sounds, but he says it cutely, and that’s all that matters to Jinyoung.

“Yes,” Jinyoung says, letting the kid take hold of it. “Yugyeom. Do you know how long a day is?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Um,” he says, hands slapping on the page again. Furtively, he side-eyes Jinyoung. He wasn’t expecting the follow-up question.

Jinyoung bails him out. “A day is the time it takes between when Yugyeom wakes up, and when he goes to sleep.”

Yugyeom understands, Jinyoung can tell by the look on his face.

He didn't know if four year olds could grasp the concept of time, so he’d asked the small mom&baby forum he’s part of for advice.

Jinyoung’s not _actually_ sure they know he’s a man; he just goes by the name Jr and calls it a day.

 _kidleader89_ had told him to relate everything back to Yugyeom-related activities so that he would understand it better.

Whereas, _SuhoPlanet9_ had told him to use lots of visual aids and let him come to his own way of understanding.

“The day,” Yugyeom is repeating back to him. “The day is until Yugyeom goes to sleep?”

“Exactly, you’re such a smart boy,” Jinyoung enthuses, remembering _pinkchorong’s_ advice: lots of compliments. “And when Yugyeom wakes up again, it’s a new day.”

Jinyoung moves his finger across each of the squares, slowly as Yugyeom watches him.

“This is a day, this is a day, this is a day. All of these little squares are a day,” Jinyoung continues. “Together, all of these days make up a month."

"A month," Yugyeom parrots. 

"So, do you know how long a month is now?" Jinyoung asks him. "Do you understand what Appa is saying to you?"

Yugyeom looks at him, blankly.

Jinyoung tries again. "A month is a long time, right?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom says, but it’s uncertain. There’s a furrow in his brow. He's completely lost. “A long time.”

Jinyoung closes the calendar, that’s enough for today. “You did really well, sweetheart. You can go play now.”

He watches Yugyeom toddle back to his toys. Tomorrow, he tells himself, tomorrow he’ll try again.

-

It’s not until after Yugyeom is in bed that Jinyoung checks his phone. It’s been on silent and shoved beneath his pillow ever since he came back from Jaebum’s.

He hadn’t wanted to deal with speaking to him, despite bringing it on himself.

There are three missed calls and one text message when he checks, all from Jaebum. Jinyoung’s surprised he didn’t show up to the apartment unannounced, but he’s really glad he didn’t.

Jinyoung hesitates over the green call button, thumb hovering. Quickly, he presses it - like ripping off a band-aid.

He regrets it immediately.

It only rings twice and then Jaebum is picking up. “Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung brings his phone up to his ear.

“Hi,” he begins, uncertain, eyes squeezed shut. “Could you-. Could you come over? We need to talk.”

Jaebum agrees readily, which Jinyoung is not expecting. And so, not even an hour later he’s opening the door to the other man.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks him.  
  
Jaebum steps out of his shoes, car keys in hand.  
  
“I’m driving,” he says to Jinyoung. “But thank you.”  
  
He follows Jinyoung to the sitting room, where they sit as far apart as the couch allows them to be.  
  
“So,” Jaebum begins, awkward. “How have you been?”  
  
“Could be better,” Jinyoung admits, reaching forward to grab the bottle of beer he’d been nursing while waiting for Jaebum.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says, low. “For the way I spoke to you, that night.”  
  
Jinyoung takes a swig of his drink, lets it sit on his tongue for a moment, before he swallows it. He’s still angry, he decides.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about that,” he tells him.  
  
“Jinyoung-”  
  
“Jaebum,” he interrupts swiftly. “I don’t want to.”  
  
They look at each other.  
  
“Okay,” Jaebum concedes, surrendering. “Whatever you want.”  
  
Jinyoung evaluates him.  
  
“What if I don’t want Yugyeom to go with you to America.”  
  
“You’ve already made that perfectly clear, Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, he bites down on his lip, then his jaw tightens with tension.  
  
“And?”  
  
Jaebum’s mouth twitches, his patience wearing thin.  
  
It’s funny, Jinyoung thinks, because when they were together Jaebum never hesitated to cut Jinyoung off when he was being irritating, or when he was testing his patience. He never does so now. He takes a deep breath, forces his fingers to uncurl his fingers from where they’re digging into his jeans.  
  
“If you only brought me here to deride me,” he says slowly, “then, I’ll show myself out. I’m not interested.”  
  
He goes to stand up, and Jinyoung reacts instinctively, hand wrapping around Jaebum’s wrist.  
  
“I’ll consider it,” he blurts out. It’s not what he was going to say, but it’s out there now. Hanging in the air between them. Jaebum looks as shocked as Jinyoung feels. “Maybe. It’s not a definite.”  
  
Jaebum sits back down, not quite believing it. “Thank you.”  
  
“Don’t be,” Jinyoung tells him, hand retreating. It sobers Jaebum’s expression immediately. “It’s not a yes. And even if it were, I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Yugyeom.”  
  
“Of course,” Jaebum says. His voice is tight. He looks Jinyoung in the eye. “But I’m still thankful.”

His lips are pressed together, dark brows drawn in tight. And Jinyoung can't help but think how handsome he is, how strong. 

“I don’t trust you.”

Jaebum’s face slackens in shock, only to be replaced by a deep-set sadness.

Jinyoung gaze falls down to his hands.  
  
“Not that I think you would ever hurt our son or wilfully put him in danger,” he continues, fingers flexing around the green glass of the bottle he’s holding. “I just-. I don’t trust you.”  
  
The silence carries on, loud and insistent. Jinyoung picks at the peeling label of his bottle with his short nails.  
  
When Jaebum breaks the silence, his voice is rough and tentative.  
  
“I’ve changed, Jinyoung-ah,” he says. And try as he might Jinyoung can’t help the little burst of warmth that settles in his belly when he hears that sweet term of endearment from Jaebum. “I’m not sure I can ever prove it to you, but I’m willing to try. Let me-. You have a week off of work next week right?”  
  
Jinyoung nods, he’d told him in passing weeks ago, because they were deciding on how to split Yugyeom’s time.  
  
“Then let me take you and Yugyeom for an outing,” he shifts in his seat, enlivened by his idea but trying not to show it too much. “I’ll rent a house, there’s a great place just outside of Seoul. Yugyeom would love it there. And then,” he takes a breath, excitement bubbling down. “And then you can make your decision about America. Whatever it is. I’ll respect it, I promise you that.”  
  
Jinyoung watches him, it’s been a long time since he’s seen Jaebum like this, so sincere and open. He doesn’t really know how to feel, or how to respond.  
  
He looks down at the bottle in his hand again. Silently, he urges himself to say no - but the word never seems to make it out of his mouth.  
  
He can feel Jaebum deflating beside him.  
  
Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “Won’t your boyfriend mind?”  
  
Jaebum doesn't answer straight away.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”  
  
Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “Cut the crap, Jaebum. I met him today. At your apartment.”  
  
Jaebum remains firm, “I’m telling you the truth. He’s my friend. We’ve-,” he cuts himself off, embarrassed. “I’ve slept with him, yes, but that’s as far as it goes.”  
  
Jinyoung glances at him, thinks back to how comfortable Youngjae seemed in Jaebum's space.  
  
“Does he know that?”  
  
“Yeah. He does. It’s as far as it goes for him too.”  
  
Jaebum takes a big breath.  
  
“So?” he asks, he’s just like a kid, Jinyoung thinks. Just like his son. “Will you consider it?”  
  
Jinyoung stands up, ready to walk Jaebum out, finish this conversation and faceplant on his bed.  
  
“I‘ll let you know.”

-

Yugyeom sneezes with his whole body. It’s a violent thing and he looks miserable, strapped into his car seat.  
  
He’s bundled up as warm as Jinyoung could make him; big warm coat over his pyjamas, and the heat turned up a little higher than they would normally have in the car.  
  
Yugyeom’s chubby fingers make clumsy work of wiping his nose with the tissue Jinyoung had pressed into his hand (and practically begged on his knees for him to use) at the beginning of their car ride.  
  
Two days after Jaebum's visit, the cold that Jinyoung had been dreading has finally caught up to Yugyeom. Jinyoung expects it’s only going to be a twenty-four hour bug, but he’d be rather be safe than sorry.  
  
He parks bumpily alongside the pavement outside the pharmacy’s sterile bright lights, a beacon amongst the closed stores on the street. The pharmacy is closing too. Its electric sign on the entrance door has changed to a simple, neon: closed.  
  
There’s one lone worker, still in his white lab coat, sweeping the floor.  
  
Jinyoung hurries, getting Yugyeom out of the car and into his hold before handing him a wet wipe to clean his hands. He knocks twice on the clear glass door, and the worker looks up, mouth already formed around a strict ‘we’re closed’ that he never verbalises once he recognises Jinyoung and the little one on the other side.  
  
He smiles, moving forward to unlock the door as Jinyoung adjusts his hold on Yugyeom.  
  
“It’s a bit late,” Minhyuk says, stepping back to open the door wider. “Is he sick?”  
  
Jinyoung steps into the familiar store, almost sighing in delight at the cozy, clean air of the pharmacy.  
  
“He’s got a cold,” he says over his shoulder, placing Yugyeom down on the counter. “We just need some quick relief so he can sleep a little better tonight.”  
  
Minhyuk squeezes around behind the counter, hands immediately going up to wrap around Yugyeom’s middle.  
  
“You’re not feeling too good today, Yugyeom-ah?” he asks the kid, voice cute and high.    
  
Yugyeom glances at him over his shoulder, mouth turned down as he shakes his head.  
  
“I’ll get you something to make you feel better okay?”  
  
He steals a quick hug - he's always been so fond of children - before ducking into the back of the store.  
  
Minhyuk makes quick work of it, coming back out a few minutes later with three medicine boxes in his hand.  
  
Yugyeom breathes heavily, head leaning against Jinyoung’s chest as he rubs his back, long and steady.  
  
Minhyuk patiently explains them all to Jinyoung, recommending dosages and methods before he rings them up.  
  
He glances at Yugyeom slumping against Jinyoung.  
  
“He’s not wearing a mask?”  
  
Jinyoung grimaces, it’s not ideal. “He’s sneezing a lot,” he says. “And he’s having trouble breathing with it on.”  
  
Minhyuk hums, “Okay, instead why don’t we try having the humidifier on as often as we can. Send him off to bed with some warm lemon tea and a dose of medicine.”  
  
He places the products inside a long paper bag with the pharmacy’s logo printed on the side. Folding it over, he seals it with a sticker, before handing it to Jinyoung.  
  
“Yugyeom-ah,” Minhyuk calls, sing-song voice trilling out. It puts Jinyoung on edge immediately.  
  
“Would you like a chocolate?”  
  
Yugyeom and Jinyoung answer simultaneously.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“No.”  
  
They look at each other. Jinyoung looks at Minhyuk.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Minhyuk ignores him, reaching forward to lift Yugyeom from the counter and place him on the floor behind the it. Jinyoung has to stretch over the surface to see.  
  
Minhyuk is kneeling down, squeezing a bottle of disinfectant gel he’d taken from his pocket into his hands. He rubs it into Yugyeom’s small hands, getting into all the nooks and crannies, while Yugyeom watches him steadily.  
  
When he’s done he pats him on the butt.  
  
“Pick out whatever you want, okay? Uncle will get it for you. My treat.”  
  
Yugyeom smiles, excited, but he still slides his eyes over to gauge his dad’s reaction.  
  
Jinyoung has to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes.  
  
“Fine,” he eventually relents.  
  
Yugyeom zooms off as soon as the word leaves his mouth, not giving Jinyoung the chance to change his mind.  
  
“Just one, Yugyeom,” he calls after him. “Are we understood?”  
  
He doesn’t get an answer, Yugyeom lost amongst the aisles of the small pharmacy.  
  
Jinyoung narrows his eyes at Minhyuk, “You’re the devil.”  
  
Minhyuk laughs, leaning back over the counter with his arms folded. “You’re not even the first person to say that to me today.”  
  
“Who was the first?”  
  
“Kihyun,” he says. His best friend.  
  
“Please tell Kihyun-ssi that he’s found a kindred spirit in me, then,” Jinyoung tells him, slumping down on the counter too.

The air-conditioning whirs in the background, there’s the rustle of candy wrappers somewhere in the store. It’s about a quarter to eight.  
  
“Where’s hyung?” Jinyoung asks Minhyuk.  
  
Hyunwoo usually swings by the pharmacy when Minhyuk works late so that they can walk home together.  
  
Carefully he watches the way that Minhyuk’s face twists in displeasure, for the slightest moment, before he covers it up with a neutral, casual look.  
  
“Meeting ran late, I think,” he says, dropping his chin into the palm of his hand with an exaggerated off-handedness. “He won’t be stopping by.”  
  
Jinyoung’s stomach turns. Doesn’t that sound familiar?  
  
“Is-,” he pauses, considers his phrasing. “Is everything okay? Between you and hyung.”  
  
Minhyuk opens his mouth on a pre-prepared answer, but then he catches the soft look in Jinyoung’s eye and seems to deflate all at once. His shoulders droop, and he looks so tired.  
  
“No,” he says, rubbing at his face. “Not really.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Minhyuk snorts a laugh, but it’s hollow under the bright overhead lights of the pharmacy.  
  
“I don’t know,” he says, he’s not looking at Jinyoung anymore, cheeks darkening just slightly. “We just don’t seem to click anymore. He doesn’t have a lot of time-"  
  
He stops.  
  
Minhyuk doesn’t say it, but Jinyoung can hear _for me_ as clear as day.  
  
“Are you gonna be okay?”  
  
“Me, or us?”  
  
Jinyoung doesn’t respond.

“I don’t want to break up,” Minhyuk says, carefully - like he doesn’t want to speak a curse into existence. “But I don’t know how much longer we can go on like this.”  
  
“You’ll figure it out,” Jinyoung tells him, wincing internally as soon as the empty platitude leaves his mouth. “You’re good together.”  
  
Minhyuk presses his hand on to the cold surface of the counter, fingers spreading out evenly. He stares at it for a long moment.  
  
“Are we?”  
  
Jinyoung takes a deep breath. Thinks back on all the accidental glimpses he’s had of Minhyuk and Hyunwoo’s love: fingers curled into each other beneath a table, a wobbly kiss pressed into the corner of a mouth in a loud bar, a quick wink sent across a connecting gaze from two different sides of a room.  
  
“Yes,” Jinyoung says. “You are.”  
  
Minhyuk hums in thought. “Would you say the same thing if I asked you about Jaebum all those months ago?”  
  
Jinyoung’s heart constricts, it beats loud in his ear; his mouth is dry.  
  
“That’s not fair,” he says. “It’s not the same thing at all.”  
  
“The stakes were higher,” Minhyuk concedes, watching as Yugyeom wanders over to the display of brightly coloured, glossy magazines, chocolate bar clutched in his fist. “But it’s the same thing.”  
  
“Hyung loves you,” Jinyoung replies, his neck prickling with heat. “You’ll find a way through this.”  
  
“And if we don’t?”  
  
“Then,” Jinyoung says, tongue running across the seam of his dry lips. “I’ll be here for you. Both of you. As long as you need.”  
  
Minhyuk looks a little surprised, but his cheeks are pink, pleased.  
  
“Hyung has been my friend for forever,” Jinyoung tells him. “He’s basically my big brother, that’s never, ever going to change. But I care about you too, independently of him. I will still be your friend - we all will - even if your relationship doesn’t work out.”  
  
Minhyuk nods, and Jinyoung can tell he’s touched.

“Thank you,” he says, with his gap-toothed smile. “Really.”

The tension leaves his body, shoulders loosening up a little.  
  
“How are things between you and Jaebum?”  
  
Jinyoung breathes in deep and exhales hard.  
  
“Messy,” he says. “I take it you heard what happened from Hyunwoo hyung?”  
  
“Yeah. But also,” he glances furtively at Jinyoung. “He also called hyung to see if he could get through to you.”  
  
Jinyoung’s tongue sticks to the top of his mouth. “And?”  
  
Minhyuk snorts a laugh, “And he got an earful. I didn’t hear much of it though, Hyunwoo went into his office to speak to him. They had a long conversation.”  
  
Jinyoung mulls this over, eyes on the various trinkets for sale on the counter.  
  
“We talked the other day,” Jinyoung confides.  
  
“How did that go?”  
  
“Well I didn’t kill him,” Jinyoung laughs. “So, it went well? I guess.”  
  
“I could get Kihyun to do it,” Minhyuk whispers playfully. “It wouldn’t be traced back to you.”

“Didn’t you say he was a cosmetic chemist?”  
  
“Death by skincare,” Minhyuk announces, hands spread. “No-one will see it coming.”  
  
Jinyoung laughs, but it’s short lived. Anxiety pours into the open spaces in his body too soon.  
  
“You know what he asked me?”  
  
Minhyuk makes a soft, inquiring sound, eyes serious again.  
  
“He-,” Jinyoung’s mouth catches on a smile - but it’s more of disbelief than happiness. “He wants us to go away for a week together. With Gyeom. Rent a cabin in the country. Can you believe that?”  
  
“What did you reply?”  
  
Jinyoung hesitates, a little embarrassed at his indecision. “I said I would let him know. But I’m going to decline.”  
  
Minhyuk doesn’t answer for a long moment. Jinyoung looks up, only to find the other man’s gaze piercing right through him.  
  
“You should take him up on it.”  
  
Jinyoung gapes. “What?”  
  
“Go with him.”  
  
“That’s,” Jinyoung stutters, still dumbfounded. “That’s not what I thought you were gonna say.”  
  
“Well,” Minhyuk, shuffles his feet, adjusting his stance on the counter. “To be honest, I think we should take the skincare route-”  
  
“Right-”

“-but I know that’s not what you want.”  
  
Jinyoung freezes. Struck silent.  
  
“So,” Minhyuk continues. “I think you should go with him. Because it’s what you want.”  
  
Jinyoung splutters, indignant. “ _How_ is it what I want?”  
  
“You’re strong-headed, Jinyoung-ah,” Minhyuk tells him. “If you didn’t want this - if you were absolutely sure you didn’t want to spend even one more second more than you needed to with him - we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’d be talking about how you told him to take his offer and just shove it so far up his-”

Yugyeom drops his magazine. Crouches down to pick it up again with a loud sniffle.  
  
“You’d say no,” Minhyuk amends, voice quieter. “And you’d move on, because that’s what you do. You make a decision and you don’t often turn back on it. You’re acting like this because you want to go, but you can’t find a way to justify it to yourself.”  
  
“That’s-. That’s not true.”  
  
“Isn’t it?”  
  
They stare at each other, at a stalemate. Jinyoung’s stomach is churning.  
  
Minhyuk breaks the stare first, glancing at the clock.  
  
“I really need to close up the shop,” he says, sighing. Kindly, he doesn’t mention the mottled redness flushing Jinyoung’s cheeks. “I was supposed to leave twenty minutes ago. Looks like I’m going to miss the beginning of my drama.”  
  
Jinyoung beckons the kid over. Yugyeom drags his feet, a bright magazine clutched between his hands.  
  
“Appa,” he starts, shy. “Can I have this?”  
  
Jinyoung sighs, but gives in - unable to resist the need to give Yugyeom everything he wants to make him feel better. He hands over the magazine, the chocolate bar and his card to Minhyuk.

Yugyeom clings to Jinyoung’s leg, and Minhyuk is quietly processing the transaction. So Jinyoung’s gaze wanders outside, to the fast cars crossing through the dark streets.  
  
He sees a figure on the other side and his heart jolts.  
  
“Look who’s here,” he tells Minhyuk.  
  
Hyunwoo is across the street, briefcase bag strapped across his grey suit. His coat is hung over his arm like he didn’t even remember to put it on during the metro ride here.

He stands with one foot on the pavement, the other on the road, looking both ways for a break in the traffic so he can dash across to the pharmacy. 

Jinyoung turns to look at Minhyuk. He watches the way that Minhyuk’s face softens, smile catching at the very edges of his mouth, how quietly and internally he just radiates happiness.  
  
“Maybe there is hope after all,” he murmurs, half to himself.  
  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know baek ahyeon super well, so, sorry ahyeon stans if she's super ooc. 
> 
> (p.s. pls dont come for me, markson stans) 
> 
> (p.p.s. i know some ppl won't agree with what hyunwoo said, but he's coming from a good place, pls be nice to him) 
> 
> (p.p.p.s. you didn't hear from me, but it seems like ao3 user minhukie is contemplating posting a kihyun/wonho fic (after this one is over) that is set in this same universe - so same characters, but focused on a different pairing. fellow monbebes hmu if you'd be interested, otherwise you can just tell me to shut up. i'd probably just post it anyway tho)


	4. Want You Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Like a helluva lot more things were supposed to happen in this chapter ... but alas, here is this one. I’ll try and get the next one updated soon - and that’ll have more cabin- escapades and maybe more drama, but you didn’t hear that from me ;)
> 
> tw: mildly implied homophobia

I know it's hard to hear it

And it may never be enough

But don't take it out on me now

['Cause I blame it all on myself.](https://youtu.be/yPQfcG-eimk)

-

Jinyoung likes to think that he has pretty decent taste in home decor.

His living room curtains are heavy and cream coloured, his couch is a soft off-grey linen upholstery, there are tasteful photos of Yugyeom, a framed fashion advert he’d carefully cut out of a Harper’s Bazaar, and a little pile of writing books at the side.

It’s not cluttered or messy (most of the time) and Jinyoung loves the harmony of it.

There’s just one … niggling little detail: a squat, unmatching footstool that ruins the whole vibe.

It was a gift from his grandma, given to him when he and Yugyeom first moved into this apartment. She had brought it up with her on the train all the way from Changwon when she’d visited.

It’s a square, ugly little thing made of cheap black leather and a gaudy floral embroidery on the top. Jinyoung doesn’t even know where his grandma bought it from, and he hadn’t had the heart to tell her how much he hated it - she’d been so proud of it.

Yugyeom, naturally, loves it.

It’s his favourite place to be. He drags it out in front of the TV and plops his butt on it, stores his colouring supplies in the inner compartment, kneels on the floor to draw on top of it.

He’s there now, flicking noisily through the magazine that Jinyoung had bought him the day before.

It’s just inching into the afternoon, and someone’s knocking at the door.

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung cajoles. “Do you want to come with Appa to see who’s at the door?”

The sound of a thin magazine page cutting through the air is crisp as Yugyeom turns the page. He pats it down.

“Mm,” he hums, not looking at Jinyoung. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Appa,” Yugyeom sighs, put upon. “I’m reading. A book.”

“A magazine,” Jinyoung corrects automatically, it goes ignored.

It’s a curious feeling, he thinks, wanting to melt at the cuteness whilst simultaneously struggling not to roll his eyes.

“What if it’s Daddy?”

Now _that_ gets Yugyeom’s attention. He glances at Jinyoung furtively, considering it, but then, ultimately, he dismisses it.

“No,” he tells Jinyoung. “Daddy comes later.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung sighs, turning to leave - Jaebum is getting impatient at the door. “If you say so.”

It doesn’t take more than a few paces to reach the door of his apartment, though by then Jinyoung can hear the pitter-patter of curiosity behind him.

He smiles to himself, pulling the door open.

“Hi,” he says to Jaebum, but the sound is drowned beneath the piercing screech Yugyeom emits as soon as he sees his father.

He rushes forward immediately, tripping over himself as he falls into Jaebum’s waiting arms.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, breathless with happiness, face smushing into the smooth leather of Jaebum’s jacket.

Jaebum doesn’t answer, peppering the side of the kid’s face with quick kisses.

“Did you miss me?” he asks, between one kiss and another. “Daddy missed you, Yugyeom.”

He steps out of his shoes fastidiously, though carefully maintaining his hold on Yugyeom, and uses his foot to nudge them into a pile close to Jinyoung’s shoe rack.

It’s an annoying but familiar habit. One that Jinyoung had never quite managed to break Jaebum out of, so with quiet exasperation he picks up after him and follows them into the living room.

Jaebum sits on one of the armchairs, Yugyeom clinging to him. It takes a little adjusting, but the kid manages to sit on Jaebum’s lap whilst maintaining 95% of skin-to-skin contact.

He curls his fingers into Jaebum’s shirt.

“You’re early,” he says, accusatory. “Why?”

Jaebum laughs in surprise, looking up to share it with Jinyoung.

“I wanted to see you,” he tells Yugyeom after a moment. “I wanted to surprise you. Did you like the surprise?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom admits, in that sugary tone he gets whenever he’s being spoiled. He tries to hide his smile behind his fingers.

“What should we do this weekend?” Jaebum asks him next. “Should I take you out into the countryside?”

Fidgeting on his father’s lap, Yugyeom’s words are muffled behind his fingers, “What the countryside is?”

“The countryside?” Jaebum hums, thinking about how to answer.

“It’s like a park,” Jinyoung offers. He’s perched on the arm of the couch, opposite them. “But a whole lot bigger.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widen, a regular park is already so big for little people.

“It’s bigger than the park?”

“Much bigger,” Jaebum adds, arms wrapped tight around the kid’s middle. “I got us a house, and we’ll have a sleepover there, would you like that?”

Yugyeom nods vigorously, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. It reminds Jinyoung that he needs to get it cut.

“What’s Appa going to do this weekend?” Jaebum asks next.

Yugyeom looks to Jinyoung, curious of the answer, but when he realises that the question was asked of _him_ , he turns to Jaebum with confusion marking his features. He shrugs.

“You don’t know?”

He shakes his head.

“What if I told you,” Jaebum starts, and the excitement is palpable in his voice, “that Appa will be joining Daddy and Yugyeom on the trip?”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, in a way that Yugyeom understands. Jinyoung sees his face go from completely clueless, to completely wide-eyed in the space of a second.

He whips his face towards Jinyoung for confirmation.

Jinyoung smiles, wan, “Surprise.”

He expects Yugyeom to screech (his favourite mode of self-expression), or accuse him of lying (his second-favourite mode of self-expression) but instead, the baby’s lips turn downward, his face crumples, and then he’s crying.

Jaebum and Jinyoung react at the same time, hurried with alarm. Jinyoung crosses the small distance of the living room to place a hand on Yugyeom’s back.

“What’s wrong?” Jaebum asks, worriedly wiping Yugyeom’s tears with his thumb. “Do you not like it?”

Yugyeom’s heaving in sobs, big and loud - his small chest moving with the heaviness of tears.

“I-,” he stutters, struggling to find his words amongst the crying. “I like it.”

Jaebum’s brow is furrowed, and he holds Yugyeom’s tiny hand in his enormous one. He looks so worried.

“He’s just overwhelmed,” Jinyoung assures him, running a hand over Yugyeom’s back, but he’s relieved too to know that these are happy tears. “It’s okay, kiddo. You’re alright.”

It takes a few minutes, but Yugyeom eventually calms down, guided by both his parents’ gentle hands. He wipes his tears with the broad of his palm, but he can’t stop the huge smile taking over his face. He giggles, hands over his eyes and face tipped up. His teeth are so small and round, and it’s so cute, Jinyoung’s heart squeezes; he can’t help the reciprocal smile.

He glances up to see Jaebum’s reaction, and his heart jolts, warmth radiating from his belly. The other man is staring right at him, face unreadable, eyes dark.

It startles Jinyoung into action, and he stands - too quick and clumsy.

“I’m going to go get our things,” he announces, gesturing ineffectually over his shoulder, taken aback by the directness of Jaebum’s gaze.

It’s a marvel that Jaebum can still overbalance him like this. Jinyoung thought he’d grown out of it.

His and Yugyeom’s things are already packed (Jinyoung had done it while Yugyeom took his nap earlier) so he’s just checking them over as a means for something to do. He takes a deep, even breath; his heart’s still racing.

Yugyeom wanders into the room just as Jinyoung is zipping up their suitcase. He waddles right up to him, pushing his face into Jinyoung’s thigh in that special way of his that means he has so much to say, though he feels a little delicate.

Chuckling, Jinyoung sits on the edge of his bed, and slides his hands under the kid’s armpits to pull him on to his knee.

Yugyeom twists around immediately, hiding his face in Jinyoung’s neck, while his dad strokes his hair.

Then, once he’s gathered his wits about him, he pushes himself on his knees, on top of Jinyoung’s thighs, and places a hard kiss on the corner of Jinyoung’s mouth.

Jinyoung smiles at him, “What was that for?”

Yugyeom presses his lips together, before glancing up timidly, his little face looks very serious.

“Thank you, Appa.”

Jinyoung uses a gentle thumb to wipe away the errant tears clinging to Yugyeom’s bottom lashes. “What for?”

“For-,” he starts, swallowing heavily, he swipes at the wetness on his eyes with the back of his hand, “for coming with me and Daddy.”

Jinyoung is touched, heart swelling in his chest. But he feels so sorry too.

“You’re welcome, baby. Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom says, reaching up to squeeze his arms around Jinyoung’s neck. “I’m happy.”

“Good,” replies Jinyoung, voice thick and heavy with a heady mixture of love and heartache. He hugs back just as tight. “Good, Yugyeom-ah. Appa’s only happy when you’re happy.”

-

Yugyeom’s gone to go potty one last time before they leave, so Jinyoung heads back to living room alone, with their suitcase in one hand and the kid’s backpack in the other.

Jaebum is in Jinyoung’s tiny kitchen when he arrives. It’s an open-plan space, diverging from the living room. He’s standing at one of the counters closest to Jinyoung, hands behind his back and nose-deep into things that are none of his business.

He looks up when he hears Jinyoung’s footsteps, and hastily shuffles back from the stack of unopened letters he was looking at.

“What are you doing?” asks Jinyoung, dropping the suitcase and the bag on the floor.

“Nothing,” Jaebum replies quickly, but Jinyoung can tell by the way his shirtsleeves move that his hands are fidgeting behind his back. “I was just looking around.”

“Right,” Jinyoung says. He’d always been a big advocate of personal privacy when they were together. It’s even more pronounced now that they’re apart. “Don’t.”

Jaebum at least looks contrite, he nods, “I’m sorry, Jinyoung.”

Yugyeom comes careening into the living room then, completely oblivious to the weird tension that has settled itself over the living space in his absence.

He’s anxious to get going, as if he thinks his parents will change their minds about the trip if he allows them enough time to think about it.

So, perched on Jaebum’s hip in his black puffa jacket he impatiently whines until they’re out of the door and down to the car.

They’re taking Jaebum’s car because it’s a newer, bigger, fancier model than Jinyoung’s own, and because Jaebum insists on driving (though Jinyoung isn’t too fond of that idea).

It’s been a long time since Jinyoung’s been in the same car as Jaebum, much less been driven by him.

To stave off the awkwardness of being in such close proximity to the other man for the few hours they’ll be stuck in this moving metal box, Jinyoung asks for Jaebum’s wireless password and pulls out his work tablet from the bag he’d placed at his feet.

In the back, Yugyeom struggles against his seatbelt to take off his jacket, flinging it across the seat when he’s done.

He’s content with watching the scenery out of his window for about twenty minutes, tops. And then he starts to fidget.

“Daddy,” he whines. “I’m bored.”

Jaebum takes it in stride, seemingly used to the kid’s flighty whims. He doesn’t even glance back, eyes steady on the slow moving traffic in front of them. They’re not even out of Yangcheon yet.

“You’re bored?” Jaebum asks him. “Would you like me to put some music on? Your colouring and reading books are in the seat pouch in front of you.”

“I don’t want books,” Yugyeom mumbles, petulant. He drags the soft, rounded foot of his sneaker over the back of Jaebum’s seat incessantly. “Daddy.”

“Well, what do you want, Yugyeom-ah?”

“I want to watch,” the kid says. Then, affirmatively, he specifies, “Things.”

Jaebum sighs, adjusting the gear shift so he can change lanes.

“You can have your iPad to watch…,” he pauses, an indulgent smile flickering over his mouth, “ _things_. But only for an hour. You know the rules. Those things are bad for your eyes. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until a little bit later?”

“I’m sure,” Yugyeom replies cutely. He stretches out his hands, making impatient grabby-hand motions.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says to him, glancing over as he drives. “It’s in the compartment in front of you, would you grab it for me? His headphones are in there too.”

When Yugyeom takes it from Jinyoung, it’s clear that he’s a pro at handling it. There’s no password on the slim tablet so he opens it quickly and plugs in his bright blue children’s headphones into the jack with clumsy, but familiar, movements.

It’s not long until he puts on one of his favourite shows - Pororo - and clutches the pad, headphones over his hair, as he watches.

Jinyoung can’t hear anything from the programme, but Yugyeom’s laughter fills the car anyway. 

The kid laughs intermittently, but it’s a laughter so full and bright that it has him squeeze his eyes shut, and squirm in his car seat, chest heaving with glee under his thin shirt.

With his own tablet abandoned on his lap, Jinyoung can’t help but watch him. 

“Is he distracting you?” Jaebum asks, glancing over. They’re past the river, now, getting closer and closer to the northernmost border of Seoul, but the traffic is picking up - everyone rushing to get home early for the weekend.

Jinyoung looks at him, small smile still on his face. “Hm?”

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum clarifies. “Is he distracting you? I thought wearing headphones might cancel out the noise a little bit for you to work.”

Jinyoung swipes a hand over the darkened screen of his tablet, he was just making sure everything was handled okay for the upcoming week - he can’t ever really switch off.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Jaebum doesn’t reply, and they fall into silence. Oddly though, Jinyoung has the uncharacteristic desire to fill the space between them with conversation. But he doesn’t.

A little while later, Jaebum makes a soft, inquisitive sound in the back of his throat.

“It’s children’s day soon,” he says, as if it’s just occurred to him. As if Jinyoung hasn’t been acutely aware of him struggling to come up with a casual segue into the oncoming conversation for the past twenty minutes.

“Yes,” Jinyoung says, hoping his tone will act as a deterrent. “It is.”

“Do you have anything planned?”

“Well,” Jinyoung starts, and he can’t quite help the lick of irritability and juvenile pettiness that forms an undercurrent to his words. “If my child isn’t halfway across the world from me for a month, maybe I’ll take him for a day trip to see his great-grandparents.”

Jaebum’s jaw sets, fingers tightening audibly on the steering wheel.

“Jinyoung,” he warns.

“Changwon,” Jinyoung returns, preferring to ignore Jaebum’s caution, he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “There’s a parade they do there that he’d probably really like.”

Jinyoung’s wanted to take him for years, especially now that Yugyeom’s old enough to properly enjoy it.

Jaebum hums, accelerating a little.

“I saw the letter from your parents on your counter,” he continues. The forced casualness of his tone is a little undermined by the quick, worried glance he spares him.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, sighing deeply. He was wondering when it would come up.

“Will you take him to see them?” Jaebum prods.

“No.”

Jaebum wets his lip, nods to himself before he murmurs a quiet, “Good.”

It annoys Jinyoung, even though he somewhat agrees. So when he turns to the other man it’s with his eyes narrowed and a curl to his lip.

“Good?”

Jaebum exhales, “Come on, Jinyoung-ah, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jinyoung stares at him, all wound up with misdirected anger and no way of releasing it. With an acerbic tongue, he corrects, “Jinyoung.”

“Sorry,” Jaebum replies. “Jinyoung.”

An uneasy silence falls between them once again.

Jinyoung’s heart beats hard against his chest, and he feels like fidgeting outside of his body. He hates talking about his parents. He hates thinking about it, at all actually.

The letter arrived just after Seollal, though Jinyoung has yet to open it. He doesn’t even know how they got his new address (he figures his Grandma probably has something to do with it, or perhaps his sisters).

Jinyoung hasn’t physically seen or spoken to his parents in almost a decade, not since they renounced him and kicked him out of their home.

There was a complete radio silence from them until Yugyeom was born, when a slim package came through his and Jaebum’s door - containing a card, some money and a beautifully woven, tiny cotton cardigan and matching hat in white.

Since then, the letters come regularly - on Seollal, Children’s Day and Gyeom’s birthday. Always addressed to ‘Jinyoung and Yugyeom,’ but the short message is always directed towards Yugyeom.

Jinyoung hasn’t replied to any since the first, when he buckled under a desperate, longing ache and sent copies of Yugyeom’s first pictures.

Jaebum shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up bad memories for you.”

“It’s alright,” Jinyoung says. He breathes evenly. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know. But I’m still sorry.”

Jinyoung bites his lip, thinks it over a little.

“They’re not bad people, you know? They’re just…,” he stops, doesn’t really know how to describe it.

“Set in their ways?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, thinking back to how his grandparents - old but sprightly - still reached out to him, loved him, protected him. Even though they didn’t understand or embrace that he loved men. “Something like that.”

Jaebum considers this. He’s always been very vocal about his parent’s treatment of him, but he’s also always been especially careful in the way he addresses it. His tone is delicate even now, “That doesn’t mean they’re not bad people, Jinyoung.”

He doesn’t answer, though he appraises it seriously. He weighs out the statement in his mind, turns it over, looks at it from every possible angle.

He thinks he knows that. He thinks he agrees with it too, and perhaps that’s why he’s reluctant to reach out to them - despite their tentative, albeit sparse, communication.

Jinyoung shakes his head, ridding himself of the thoughts before turning back to his tablet screen. There are a few more emails he could stand to reply to.

“This is supposed to be a vacation,” Jaebum says later, in an awkward attempt to drive conversation to a lighter place. “Your office will be able to handle it without you for a week.”

Jinyoung laughs despite himself.

“You only say that because you haven’t met my interns,” he tells him. “Besides, a creator’s work is never finished. You know that better than anyone.”

“Nothing is final,” Jaebum concedes. He adjusts himself, slowing down the car ahead of a red light. “You remember that? From-”

“Qian Xuesen’s manuscript,” Jinyoung finishes. “I remember.”

Shanghai was hot and humid during the summer they visited. Jinyoung’s memories of it all have a vague, misty haze overlaid on top of them.

He remembers things in touch, rather than in chronology - the feel of Jaebum’s hands on him, the cold bite of ice cream from a convenience store in the middle of a warm night, the smoothness of the metal handrails in Qian Xuesen’s library - as if it was all just a dream.

In his pocket, Jinyoung’s phone buzzes, taking him out of the moment. He doesn’t know who would be calling him now, his friends all know that he’s away (some more positive about it than others), as does his office.

He takes his phone out quickly, glancing at the display before putting it up to his ear.

There’s obviously nowhere to go in the confined space of a car, but Jinyoung still wants some semblance of privacy. He turns towards the car-door, and unintentionally lowers his voice.

“Hyungsik hyung,” he greets, a small smile on his face. “Is everything okay?”

Over the line, Hyungsik says hello, but he pauses with unease, “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“Um,” Jinyoung responds, trying to resist the urge to glance back at Jaebum. He feels odd answering this call in front of him (but there’s no amount of money you could pay him to analyse exactly why that is). “Kind of, yeah. But we can talk, it’s fine.”

“No, no,” Hyungsik starts. Jinyoung can hear the light easiness in his voice. “It’s alright if you don’t have time right now.”

“Hyung,” Jinyoung asserts. “It’s okay, I’m just in a car right now. But I have time to talk.”

“Right,” Hyungsik continues, eventually conceding with a laugh. He always talks of how bossy Jinyoung can be. “Are you headed somewhere?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says. And he doesn’t mean to be so cagey, but he does find himself giving out a somewhat vague non-specific response. “I’m going out of the city, actually. I’ll be staying in Gyeonggi-do for the week.”

Hyunsik’s voice, when it comes through the line, is just a touch disappointed. “Ah. I was calling to arrange lunch between us on Monday, but I guess that’ll be off the cards for this week at least, right?”

“Lunch?” Jinyoung repeats feebly, hyper-aware that Jaebum can probably hear every word of this conversation. “I can’t this week. Can we take a rain check on that? I would still really like to see you, hyung.”

Hyungsik laughs, “Of course. Call me when you can, and we’ll arrange something. I was thinking that restaurant near the office that we went to last time, but we can work all that out later.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Have a good weekend, Jinyoung-ah, enjoy your holiday.”

Jinyoung quickly says his goodbyes and hangs up the phone. He feels at least ten degrees hotter than he did before he took the call.

He runs his fingers through his hair, then reaches forward to place his phone face-down on the dashboard in front of him.

At the back, Yugyeom is still watching his programme, though his laughter has calmed down some.

Beside him, Jaebum is quiet as he carefully inches the car back into a steady drive, the light up ahead having turned amber and then a bright, vibrant green. The traffic in front lightens up.

Jinyoung rubs his hands together, a little anxious. He knows Jaebum well enough to know that he is physically incapable of not pulling at loose threads until everything is unravelled and the truth is laid out in front of him, bare. So he prepares for the curiosity.

Sure enough, after a few moments, Jaebum ventures, voice deceptively light, “You’re seeing someone new?”

He’s not looking at Jinyoung, concentrating hard on the line of cars and their red-orange tail-lights in front of them.

“No,” Jinyoung answers, and he hopes this conversation will end as quickly as it started. “Hyungsik hyung works for my company sometimes. He’s the ambassador for one of the lines, so we don’t see each other very often.”

“A model?”

Jinyoung hesitates, “Actor.”

Jaebum’s brows raise, though he covers it up quickly. He clears his throat, “You know so many famous people now.”

Jinyoung leans back in his seat, face angled towards him.

“You work with idols,” he counters. “Besides, he’s practically the only one I know. Excluding Ahyeon noona. And Suji, maybe. Do newscasters count as celebrities?”

“Probably not,” Jaebum laughs. “Don’t tell her I said that, though, she already hates me enough.”

Jinyoung smiles. She does hate him a lot. He lets the moment lapse into silence.

“It’s good that you get along with your co-workers,” Jaebum continues. “I can’t stand most of mine for longer than it takes us to complete an album.”

Jinyoung bites his lip. Normally, he’d agree (telling Jaebum that it’s because he works with a lot of entitled know-it-alls). But he is getting drowsy, lulled by the motion of the car.

He takes an even breath, watching him steadily.

“Just ask me what you want to ask me, Jaebum.”

The other man’s fingers flex on the soft leather of his wheel. He sighs quietly to himself, eyes on the road. “Are you seeing him?”

“No,” Jinyoung says. “He’s just a friend. I have those too.”

Jaebum takes a quick look at him, and then back to the road. “Oh.”

It’s not the reaction Jinyoung was expecting (though he’s not particularly sure what it was he was expecting in the first place anyway). So he frowns, replaying the sentence in his mind … then he contextualises it with their recent conversations.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he clarifies, when it dawns on him. He doesn’t have to explain himself to Jaebum, he knows that. But he doesn’t want to misconstrue the cherished relationship he has with his hyung.

There’s also a certain comfort in confiding in Jaebum. They were friends long before they were lovers, and Jaebum was one of the principal people whose opinion and thoughts Jinyoung always, _always_ valued. It’s hard not to fall back into familiar habits despite all the heartache of the years between then and now.

“He’s my friend, Jaebum. Just my friend. I’m not seeing anyone, I’m not planning on seeing anyone anytime soon either.”

Jaebum presses his lips together, like he always does when he has a lot to say and no idea how to say it.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” he starts, catching Jinyoung’s eye briefly before he concentrates forward.

“Do what?”

Jaebum chances another look at him, longer this time. It seems like he’s about to say something, lips parting, but then he changes his mind at the last second. 

He turns back to look out of the windshield, clearing his throat.

“You should do what makes you happy,” Jaebum says, at last. “You should be happy.”

Jinyoung watches him steadily. But there’s no other explanation forthcoming. Quietly, Jaebum continues to drive.

Jinyoung’s cheeks grow hot as the seconds tick by, and there’s heat prickling at the nape of his neck. His chest feels like it’s too full of air.

He can’t help but scoff, turning his face away from Jaebum and to the small window beside him. “That’s a little rich coming from you.”

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” Jaebum replies, ignoring Jinyoung’s last dig. “Youngjae …, he’s just friend too. We were only together a few times, and not … not for a while. It wasn’t even supposed to happen. He was the first per-”

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung interrupts, heart squeezing. The other man quietens immediately, but Jinyoung doesn’t look at him. “I don’t want to hear this.”

Watching the world outside the window, Jinyoung takes in the tall trees and the steel highway barriers that line the side of the road.

They go by so quickly that they blur into one dizzying, smooth entity. Jinyoung can’t look away. It’s better than the tension swirling beside him anyway.

-

The house they pull up to, just as dusk is truly rolling in, is very modern. Lots of wide windows, a façade painted white, stone steps leading up to the door. They’re in the middle of nowhere too, pretty much.

The inside is spacious and uncluttered, just the way Jinyoung likes it.

Yugyeom had grown drowsy in the latter part of the car ride, but he takes a wander through the rooms, hair matted down on one side of his head.

Jinyoung follows him at a more sedate pace, making sure he doesn’t take a tumble when they go upstairs.

Yugyeom weaves in and out of the few rooms scattered there, fingers picking at his bottom lip.

When he’s satisfied he comes back to Jinyoung, arms wrapping loosely around his thighs. He comes easily when Jinyoung picks him up and sets him over his hips.

Jinyoung grunts, sure that the kid had put on at least another pound since the last time he’d picked him up.

Yugyeom is all limp, head heavy on Jinyoung’s shoulder. But he still has to eat before he goes to sleep.

It’s a quiet affair, when they do sit down at the rounded white table in the kitchen. Jaebum had brought food from back in Seoul, knowing that they’d probably not want to stop by the supermarket until after a full night of sleep.

Yugyeom sits perched on Jaebum's knee, cheeks full like a chipmunk as he points to whatever dish he wants to be fed next.

Jinyoung indulges him, making sure he eats a few spoonfuls of soup every now and again.

He’s exhausted by the time they head up to bed early, despite doing nothing much other than sitting in a car for most of the day.

Commandeering one of the rooms towards the back of the house, Jinyoung changes into his pyjamas quickly, and washes up in one of the bathrooms. Down the hall, he can hear Jaebum struggle to get Yugyeom to co-operate on brushing his teeth - an activity he hates with every fibre of his tiny body.

Sighing, part in relief at not having to confront that particular task today, Jinyoung folds back the bed covers before crawling into it.

The mattress is a little softer than he’s used to, but he’s certainly not complaining about how it molds itself around his body as he sinks in.

Jaebum knocks on the door before he enters, the kid in his footless onesie draped over his shoulder. He smiles awkwardly at Jinyoung, placing him down on the bed.

Jinyoung busies himself with his phone, failing miserably at not eavesdropping on the sweetness in Jaebum’s voice as he says goodnight to Yugyeom. He kisses him on the forehead one final time and stands up.

But Yugyeom panics, hand darting out to grasp at Jaebum’s wrist.

“Daddy, where are you going?” he asks, voice high and nervous.

Jaebum leans down to brush his hair back. “I’m going to sleep in the other room, Gyeom-ah, you stay here with Appa, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Yugyeom is fussy when going to bed at the best of times, but now that he’s overly tired and in an unfamiliar place, his neediness skyrockets.

He digs his baby fingernails into Jaebum’s wrists.

“I want you to stay here,” he insists, pushing out his bottom lip - like he can’t decide between being sad, being tired or being indignant. “Daddy. I want to sleep with you.”

Jinyoung would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt. He sees the way that Jaebum glances at him, his discomfort clear as day over his features.

Jinyoung sighs, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. It’s not like they had specifically set out who the kid would be sleeping with, they just happened to fall in to their natural routine. He can survive being Yugyeom’s second choice for tonight, he has no other option.

“Just take him with you,” Jinyoung tells Jaebum.

The other man nods, moving to scoop Yugyeom into his arms, mumbling a rushed ‘goodnight’ to Jinyoung before he turns towards the door.

Yugyeom, however, seems determined to be his most difficult self tonight.

He twists in Jaebum’s arms, so much that Jaebum has to hold him with a vice-grip so that he doesn’t fall.

He fusses loudly, whining in the back of his throat.

“What’s wrong?” Jaebum questions, exasperation making his tone a little pointed - he’s never really known how to properly respond to Yugyeom acting unreasonably.

“Appa,” Yugyeom cries, struggling in Jaebum’s hold. “I want Appa.”

“Gyeom-ah,” Jaebum tries, and Jinyoung can tell he’s forcing himself to speak patiently. “You have to choose who you want to stay with tonight, me or Appa?”

Yugyeom frowns, fingers tightening into the collar of Jaebum’s sleep shirt. “No,” he counters. “Both!”

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum warns, and his voice is already hardening into the disciplinary tone he rarely takes.

Yugyeom falters at hearing this, but then, he jerks in Jaebum’s hold, determined. “I want both,” he insists. “Daddy and Appa and-, and-, Yugyeom sleep-”

“Haven’t I already said no?” Jaebum returns hotly.

Jinyoung can tell they’re both gearing up for a long, arduous confrontation. It’ll end up with Yugyeom folding, but not before lots of tears and screeching. And Jinyoung … Jinyoung just wants to sleep.

Any other night, and he’d be all up for teaching Yugyeom the value of the word ‘no,’ but tonight he just wants to sleep.

He takes a deep breath, not quite believing what he’s about to suggest. It’s like someone else has taken over his faculties entirely, his voice sounds disembodied - not quite his - when it sounds out across the room.

“Jaebum,” it interrupts. Jinyoung receives two identical frowns directed his way for his troubles. “I’m tired. I don’t want arguments. Just sleep here for tonight.”

Jaebum frowns harder, “But-”

“It’s not like we’ve never slept in the same bed before,” Jinyoung continues, sighing. “It’ll be fine. Just for tonight.”

Jaebum hesitates, tongue licking over his lips.

“Okay,” he agrees, voice thin. He clears his throat, repeats more normally, “Okay. Just for tonight.”

He climbs into the bed awkwardly, and every muscle in Jinyoung’s body freezes up. He realises just then how much of a terrible idea this is, but it’s far too late to take it back.

Jaebum lays on his back, stiff. Jinyoung lays on the other side of their son, and he tries not to sigh outwardly. Instead, he turns to the bedside table and plucks Yugyeom’s plush-toy to give to the kid.

He takes it happily, cuddling it to his chest in contentment. His bad temper has miraculously improved, because of course it has, and he smiles toothily at Jinyoung.

It’s still relatively light outside, it’s not that late, so when Jinyoung turns off the bedside lamp the room becomes a wash of light blues and blacks.

“Appa, goodnight,” Yugyeom says, voice bright despite his drowsiness.

“Sweet dreams,” Jinyoung replies reflexively.

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Yugyeom says next.

From the other side Jaebum sighs very quietly. “Goodnight, Yugyeom.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn’t mean they’ve made up! 
> 
> If there are any formatting/logic errors I will fix them sometime tomorrow! (I know there’s a few in the previous chapter especially, so I’ll do that then too!) 
> 
> p.s. I have been to the Qian Xuesen library and museum in shanghai, it has a huge ass real life missile mounted in the centre. crazy shit bro, 10/10 
> 
> p.p.s. you can always hit me up on twitter @exosbebe or drop an ask through my (sadly depleted) tumblr: thelogicoftaste dot tumblr dot com, i like having friends T.T
> 
> peace!


	5. Let It Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello friends :) 
> 
> yes, this is a little late, but i've been feeling a little under the weather the past week and a bit :( i'm better now though! 
> 
> i want to introduce mo, @singmetoharry, my wonderful new beta and a pretty awesome friend on top of that too! everyone pls give her a round of applause. she has a new fic coming out soon that y'all should keep ya feelers out for! ;) 
> 
> any typos that remain in this chapter is because google docs actually hates me

Everything that's broke, 

Leave it to the breeze, 

Why don't you be you, 

[And I'll be me.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsPq9mzFNGY)

-

 

When Jinyoung wakes up, the next morning, he can tell by the position of the sun and the brightness of the room that it’s very early. Really early. Too early.

He keeps his eyes closed, hoping to fall back into blissful sleep, even though he knows he won’t. And yet from beside him, there’s the unmistakable sound of Yugyeom’s giggling.

It comes in short bursts, with a few seconds of silence in between. Occasionally, though, there’s the sound of someone else’s laughter intermingled. Something deeper, older. Jaebum.

Jinyoung opens his eyes slowly, doesn’t move any other inch of his body.

Yugyeom is straddling his father’s stomach, head leaning on his chest and small toes twitching. He’s watching the iPad screen Jaebum is holding up for him.

They haven’t noticed that Jinyoung is awake yet, so it gives him a chance to watch them quietly.

He blinks slowly, taking it all in. It’s … strange. To say the least.

It’s difficult to pinpoint the feeling that constrains his chest, because the image in front of him is something he never thought he’d get to see again. It traps his breath in his throat, swells it into a lump.

Jinyoung feels like he has a foot in two worlds. Like he’s simultaneously experiencing his past, that he misses deeply and devastatingly, and a future that never happened (even though it should have).

Jaebum has his nose buried in Yugyeom’s soft hair. He has on his pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses, and a hand placed on their son’s back.

He’s completely relaxed, with his guard down, in his mussed up hair and sleep-worn shirt. Jinyoung feels warm just looking at him.

It’s nostalgia, and longing, and more than a little resentment. But it feels altogether too much like falling down a rabbit hole, so Jinyoung shakes those thoughts from his mind and shifts, ready to get up.

“Appa?” Yugyeom asks as soon as he hears movement. Tablet forgotten, he pushes himself up on Jaebum’s chest.

He doesn’t move from where he’s perched, but he grins - wide and alert.

“It’s a new day, Appa,” he says, far too loud for the quiet morning air. It’s not like Seoul, where there is always some level of noise in the background. The air out here in the country is still, clear. “Yugyeom is up now.”

Jinyoung smiles at him, proud that he remembered, and opens up his arms in silent invitation. The kid, forever unaware of his surroundings, just dumps his body to the side, falling over sideways into Jinyoung’s embrace even though his toes must be digging into Jaebum’s ribs.

Closing his eyes, and tightening his arms around his small frame, Jinyoung just breathes him in.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Uh huh,” the kid answers, muffled. He’s trying to scramble up on his knees next to Jinyoung. “I woke up and-, and-, Appa?”

“Yeah?”

“Daddy was here!”

Jinyoung’s eyes slide over the kid’s shoulder to meet Jaebum’s.

“Was he?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom laughs, and then he bites down on his lower lip, mischievous. “I woke up and Daddy was there. He was making a lot of noise. Like this,” he hunches his shoulders, brows furrowing tightly together, and he makes a deep, hoarse rumble. Then, he breaks out in bright peals of laughter.

Jaebum grabs a handful of the kid’s onesie and pulls, until Yugyeom is falling back onto him, engulfing him in a hug as he wraps his arms around him.

“That’s enough of that, now,” he says, but there’s an indulgent smile on his face. “Daddy doesn’t snore.”

“Yes, he does,” Yugyeom counters, squirming, even as his hands clutch onto his father’s arm. “Doesn’t he, Appa?”

Two sets of eyes train on him. One with a completely open and trusting gaze, the other with slight apprehension.

He remembers all the times he pushed at Jaebum’s shoulder in the middle of the night, annoyed to his bones, hoping to knock it out of him.

“Like a bear.”

-

There are flowers everywhere. Wherever Jinyoung looks, there are bright colours in a variety of different shapes and sizes.

They’re wandering through the Garden of Morning Calm. Jinyoung and Jaebum are walking beside each other, but not really together, even though they’ve matched their pace.

Yugyeom is ahead of them, looking as overwhelmed as Jinyoung feels by all the flowers placed in decorative bunches all around them.

Their cabin is on the outskirts of Gapyeong, so it didn’t take very long to get here by car. They dipped into Petite France for breakfast, stocking up on warm, sweet European-style breads and ripe apricots.

An older ahjumma allowed Jinyoung one to taste, and he’d beckoned the kid over. Yugyeom eyed the fruit with suspicion, but he had laid his hands on top of Jinyoung’s and brought it to his mouth, taking a small, curious bite. He’d liked it enough to go in for a second, eyes warm and bright when he looked up to Jinyoung.

Now, he stops in front of a bunch of purple tulips, nestled between bunches of yellow forsythias and pink stargazer lilies. Yugyeom’s knees are bent in his jeans, like he’s only just figured out what his joints can do, but hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet.

He looks towards his parents.

Jinyoung squints against the sun. He’s holding onto Yugyeom’s backpack, and he calls out, “Smell the flowers, Yugyeom.”

The kid does as he’s told, leaning forward to take an inquisitive whiff. His face changes from apprehensive curiosity to comfortable delight in an instant. And then he’s leaning even more, inhaling deeply.

Jinyoung and Jaebum come to a stop next to him. Adjusting his sunglasses, Jaebum gets crouches down to Yugyeom’s height.

“Does it smell good?” he asks him, arms around his middle.

Yugyeom nods absently, still looking at the vivid purple of the petals. “What is it?”

“Tulip,” Jaebum says. “It’s a tulip flower.”

“Tulip,” the kid repeats, reaching forward to run the pad of his finger on the velvet-smooth underside of a petal.

Then he grips the delicate green stem in his chubby hand and pulls. In less than a second, Jinyoung’s son has managed to learn the word for tulip and mutilate a national park.

Jaebum startles, pulling the kid back, but it’s too late. Yugyeom proffers the tulip to him.

“Tulip,” he says, blissfully unaware, small smile on his face. Jinyoung’s only glad that their trail is empty save for them, despite it being a Saturday morning. “Take it, Daddy.”

“I-,” Jaebum looks lost - like he knows he needs to reprimand but doesn’t know where to begin. He looks to Jinyoung.

“Gyeom,” Jinyoung begins, bringing the kid’s attention to him. He’s not even mad at all, instead, he’s trying to hide his smile. “The flowers have to stay where they are, okay? You can’t take them. You can look. And you can touch. But you can’t take.”

Yugyeom’s brow furrows, still holding the tulip. Its heavy head droops over.

“Why not?” he demands, the corners of his lips turned downwards.

“Because,” Jinyoung dithers, trying to come up with a reason on the spot. “Because the gardener spent a long time making the flowers look pretty. She’ll be very sad if we take all her flowers away. So we have to be respectful, okay?”

The kid thinks this over, glancing at the flower in his hand, and then longingly at the gardenia around them.

“Okay,” he agrees, though Jinyoung doesn’t miss the reluctant grumble in his tone. His mouth is pursed. He presents the flower to Jinyoung. “For you, Appa. Take it.”

Jinyoung smiles. From the corner of his eye, he can see Jaebum watching their interaction. He’s still curled around the kid, and his expression is open and honest.

“Thank you, Yugyeom,” Jinyoung says, taking the flower. Yugyeom brings his hands to his chest, puffed up with how pleased he is. “It’s beautiful.”

Later, Jinyoung learns that his son is fascinated by water. Perplexed even. Especially by large pools of it, like the lake that they’re having lunch in front of.

Cheongpyeong lake is huge. The water is a deep blue, almost jewel-like, with tiny waves marking the surface from the gentle breeze.

There’s a table bench a little ways away from the lakefront, and Jinyoung is sitting opposite Jaebum, steadily making his way through the sandwiches they bought on the way down here.

Yugyeom is absently chewing on a corner of his sandwich, standing close to the lakefront, eyes trained on the water.

He’s been standing there for at least five minutes.

Jinyoung’s a little worried about him actually. He’d refused to take his nap today.

(“I’m a big boy, Appa,” he’d grumbled. “I don’t need to do naps. I’m not a baby anymore.”)

So Jinyoung indulged him, suspecting it was a combination of both growing out of them and not wanting to miss a single moment of their holiday.

Yugyeom toes the front of his sneaker into the grassy knoll. After a short while, he seems to make up his mind, and starts to walk forward with conviction.

Jaebum’s voice, from beside Jinyoung, snaps into the air - loud and clear.

“Don’t even think about it,” he yells over to the kid. It makes him stop in his tracks. He turns to look at them like a deer in headlights. “Come back here, Yugyeom.”

Yugyeom drags his feet, but he comes to sit beside them, curling up on Jinyoung’s lap.

He puts his half-eaten sandwich down, picks up a slice of gimbap from the roll and eats it thoughtfully.

“I like here,” he says after, gesturing vaguely around them. “I like Daddy, and Appa. And I like the water.”

His syllables run into each other towards the end of the sentence. He chews slowly.

Squirming, he manages to sit in Jinyoung’s lap in a way that gives him an unobstructed view of the lake, the pale red-brick buildings on the other side, and the banana boats bobbing serenely by the dock.

His fingers are sticky from the gimbap, there’s an errant cluster of rice stuck on his cheek, and his eyes stay closed for longer and longer with each time he blinks.

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything, not wanting to startle him out of sleep, but he agrees. He likes it here too.

-

When they next come back to the garden, a few days later, they come at night. The light show is on, and everyone is in awed silence.

Yugyeom is in Jaebum’s arms, the lights reflected on his face.

When it gets close to his bedtime he rubs his nose on the smooth front of Jaebum’s denim jacket, and then lays his head down.

They start walking back to the car, Yugyeom sleeping steadily on his father’s shoulder, and it’s silent between them. There’s the distant sounds of other tourists back towards the centre of the garden, but Jinyoung can only concentrate on the sounds of their shoes over the gravel of the cove they’re walking under, dark green ivy curled around the wicker frame of the arches.

He wants to break the silence, parting his dry lips many times in the hopes of sparking conversation, but he can never quite bring himself to do it.

For the best part of two years, his and Jaebum’s conversations have been neat segments of ten or twenty minutes, in between days of non-communication. This is the longest time they’ve spent together in _years_ , and Jinyoung doesn’t know what to make of it.

It’s not so bad when the kid is awake, because most of their attention is focused him, and Yugyeom’s never met a sentence he didn’t like. He’s their little fire starter, their own little communication hub.

Which is why it’s surprising that each night, since the first, Jaebum and Jinyoung have sat in the guest house’s small living room after putting the kid to sleep in their respective bedrooms.

Yugyeom is mostly asleep by the time they come back from their day trips, so it’s been a lot easier than expected to slide back into defined and set boundaries.

Jaebum comes down the stairs with a groan, walking heavily towards the fridge.

There’s an old Golden Bell re-run on the TV, but the volume is really low and Jinyoung’s not paying much attention.

His phone, placed face-down on his belly, intermittently buzzes whenever another of Suji’s new kakao talks come through.

 _This is still a stupid idea, and I don’t support you in it,_ she says first.

 _I mean,_ she amends less than a minute later. _I support_ you. _I just don’t support your weirdo vacation date with your weirdo ex._

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, _It’s not a date. It’s for Yugyeom’s sake anyway._

He hesitates, not knowing whether to divulge or not. But then, he figures, if not his best friend, then who else can he confide in?

_Nothing is going on between us._

There’s a long wait between his text and Suji’s response. Jinyoung’s heart beats a pattern into his ribs. Behind him, Jaebum’s noisy as he rummages in the mini-fridge in the kitchen.

 _Nothing is going on?_ she repeats. _Are you sure about that?_

_Yes._

_Jinyoung-ah,_ she says next, and he can hear the gentleness in her voice even through text. _Do you want there to be?_

The clink of a glass bottle settled on the coffee table in front of the TV startles him, knocking him out of his staring contest with his phone.

Jaebum is placing a bottle of beer in front of Jinyoung, but looks over his shoulder at him when he jumps.

Jinyoung instinctively locks his phone and tilts it away from where the other man can see it, can read what he has been writing.

It’s obvious that Jaebum’s fully aware of the tactic, eyes tracking Jinyoung’s movements. For once, his face is completely unreadable to Jinyoung.

He expects him to ask who he’s texting, but to Jinyoung’s surprise, Jaebum only caps off his bottle and takes a large swig, relaxing into the couch.

Eventually, he turns to where Jinyoung is watching him, curled up on the too-small sofa.

“Are you not drinking?” Jaebum asks, indicating with his bottle. He seems a little more closed off than he was before.

Jinyoung reaches for the bottle, it’s still chilly from the fridge; condensation making it a little slippery.

In strained silence, they watch the show. It’s more than halfway through, so Jinyoung’s already lost, but it’s not like he’s paying attention anyway.

He’s hyper aware of the mass of Jaebum beside him. But he can’t find it in himself to say anything.

Eventually, Jaebum clears his throat, repositioning himself on the couch.

“Have you thought any more about America?” he asks, desperately trying to sound casual.

Jinyoung swallows.

“Not really,” he says, honestly. He doesn’t add that he’s been avoiding the topic like the plague. “We agreed that I’d make a decision after vacation anyway. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Jaebum opens his mouth and, for a second, Jinyoung’s sure an argument’s brewing. But he reels it in, exhibiting far more self-control and patience than Jinyoung thought he was capable of.

Jaebum drops his head back on the couch, eyes closed, and he exhales deeply; fingers tight on his bottle. When he opens his eyes, he licks his lips. Takes another hard breath.

“A month is a long time,” Jinyoung tells him, tone edged sharp from defensiveness.

Jaebum presses his lips together. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression softens - just a little bit, but enough for Jinyoung to notice.

“Yeah,” he concedes, on another sigh. “Yeah, it is.”

A moment passes between them. The TV flickers from white to a cool, pale blue. There’s a close up Yoo Jaesuk, and the canned sound of a laughing track.

“How do you do it?” Jinyoung asks him, voice hoarse. He can sense Jaebum turning to look at him, but he keeps his gaze focused on the TV. “How can you bear to stay away from him for so long?”  
  
There’s a long pause.

“I can’t,” Jaebum answers eventually; truthfully, delicately. “But I don’t have any other choice, Jinyoung.”

There is sympathy, amongst the jumble of feelings currently swirling inside of Jinyoung. Absolutely, there is sympathy. But it’s dwarfed in size by the sheer amount of resentment ricocheting off of hurt.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Jinyoung says, his mouth is dry, tongue sticking to the roof of it. But his words feel hot, burning his throat on the way out. “Isn’t this is why you left? Because you wanted space from us, from-,”

 _From me_ , he doesn’t say.

Jaebum doesn’t answer right away. He thinks carefully, dark brows drawn in tight.

“Being away from our son like this,” he starts, voice low and hesitant. “It’s because of me, and it’s because of something that I can’t ever take back. And I’m not even sure I can ever make up for it. It’s one of the hardest decisions I have to live with.”

Jaebum laughs, but it’s wobbly and sad; his patented nervous response. He wipes his hand across his mouth. “It’s one of the two worst decisions of my life. It’s not easy,” he continues. “But at the very least, it’s worth it because it’s good for Yugyeom.” Jaebum pauses, glancing over at Jinyoung. “And for you.”

Jinyoung’s gaze skitters towards Jaebum. “Me?”

“You…,” Jaebum starts, struggling with his words. “You both need each other. You raise him better than I ever could.”

“That’s not true,” Jinyoung refutes immediately, shaking his head. It’s hard to not let the green tinge of envy colour his voice. “He loves you, _so_ much. He looks forward to being with you every single week.”

“Of course he does,” Jaebum replies, eyes levelled on his. “But that’s because Daddy will let him have ice cream, and take him to funfairs, and let him stay up after his bedtime whenever he wants. What kid wouldn’t like that? Staying with me is a novelty, Jinyoung, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t do anything without mentioning you, you know that? Without wondering if you’d like it, how you'd react. He always misses you, as much as you miss him.”

Jinyoung grips his beer bottle ever tighter. He’s overwhelmed, short fingernails picking at the peeling paper. When he takes a wobbly gulp of his beer, he finds that his palms have warmed the drink. He doesn’t know what to say, but eventually he just settles on, “You let him stay up past his bedtime?”  
  
Jaebum looks surprised for a second, like he wasn’t expecting the conversation to turn down that avenue, and he laughs. It dismisses the tension. Just like that. It’s placed on the backbench; marked ‘to be revisited later’.

After a moment, Jaebum gets up to leave, placing his empty bottle on the coffee table. Jinyoung isn’t even halfway through his, but he feels its warmth all the way down his chest.

Jaebum stretches, shirt lifting to show a slither of tanned skin, and then he turns to walk up the stairs to his room.

Jinyoung’s twisted on the couch, looking at Jaebum’s retreating back, hoping to satisfy his curiosity.

“Hyung?” he calls. And then he panics. 

He wasn't thinking, and it just slipped out.

Jaebum stops, freezing like his entire body was just shot through with electricity. Then he turns, eyes settling on Jinyoung.

Jinyoung half shakes his head.

“Jaebum,” he corrects himself.

It takes a moment for him to find his voice.

“Yeah?”

“What’s the other one?”

Jaebum looks lost, brows furrowing. “Other one what?”  
  
Jinyoung clears his throat, biting the bullet. “You said that not living with Yugyeom was one of the two worst decisions of your life,” he starts. “What was the other one?”

Jaebum licks his lips; swallows heavily, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his skin. He’s not looking at him anymore.

“Goodnight, Jinyoung,” he says, and then turns for the stairs, leaving Jinyoung and the laughing TV behind him.

-

Yugyeom likes a lot of things. But he only likes them when and if it suits his fancy. He pulls off his beloved black and white leopard print hat and drops it carelessly on the ground. It’s the third time he’s done it.

Exasperated, Jinyoung grabs at his elbow when the kid makes to get away and grasps his chin between two fingers, forcing him to look at him.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” he says. “ _Don’t_ make me say it again, Yugyeom. Your hat goes on your head, not on the ground, do you understand?”

Jinyoung bends to pick up the hat from the gravel, shaking it to dislodge any debris, and places it firmly back on his son’s head.

Yugyeom squirms, making to go tug it off again. Jinyoung grabs his wrists before he can.

“ _Yugyeom_.”

“I don’t want to wear it,” the kid complains, trying hard to pull away. “It’s too hot. Appa, I don’t want to.”

His face is all twisted up, he’s not looking Jinyoung in the eye, but he keeps tugging harshly.

“Okay,” Jinyoung snaps, unintentionally raising his voice, too tired to argue anymore. He releases the kid’s wrists, and Yugyeom stumbles back a little, but he doesn’t make a dash for it.

Standing in front of Jinyoung’s seat on the park bench, he looks moody, but also a little contrite. Jinyoung’s shoulders drop.

“You don’t have to wear it,” Jinyoung tells him. “But you do _not_ toss the things Daddy and Appa bought for you on the floor, Yugyeom, that’s not nice. Give it here.”

Yugyeom takes off his hat, his hair is all mussed now, and places it in Jinyoung’s outstretched hand. But then he doesn’t move.

“What are you waiting for?” Jinyoung asks, unable to mask how ticked off he is. He probably wouldn’t care so much if Yugyeom hadn’t dug in his heels this morning about how much he _needed_ to wear his hat today. With jerk of his chin, Jinyoung dismisses him, “Go on, go play.”

Yugyeom hesitates. It takes another long second, but then he eventually turns on his heel and runs towards the play area.

A moment later, Jaebum sits beside Jinyoung on the bench. Back from his trip to the roadside vendor for some bottles of water, he passes one to Jinyoung.

“Kids are annoying,” he comments idly, voice catching on a lopsided grin. He’s trying to lighten the mood. But it makes embarrassment flare up in Jinyoung. Jaebum just had to have witnessed that, didn’t he?

“ _Your_ kid is annoying,” Jinyoung replies.

“Oh, so he’s my kid when he’s being unpleasant?” Jaebum notes, amusement clear. When Jinyoung doesn’t respond, he adjusts his tone, tries again. “Come on, Jinyoung. Kids are fickle, you know that. It’s just a hat, and he doesn’t want to wear it, it’s fine.”

“I get that you wanna spoil him,” Jinyoung says, and he’s not even really sure _why_ he’s so annoyed. “I do. But his life doesn’t stop here, in this bubble. He has school to go to, people he meets every single week. And he’s going to need to be considerate of their patience and their time.”

Jaebum takes a long look at him. “You’re right,” he says, breaking the seal off of his bottle. “I’m sorry.”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know why Jaebum feels compelled to apologise to him over this. And it bugs him for the rest of the day. He doesn’t find himself relaxing until later on, when Yugyeom’s asleep and he can just blank out in front of the TV.

Jaebum is spread out beside him on the too-small couch, their knees are touching.

“Today was long,” he says, stretching out some more. “I can’t believe it’s nearly the end of our vacation. What did we even do?”

Jinyoung snorts, takes a sip out of his coca-cola can. “Walk?”

It’s true. They must have visited every park and grassland available in Gapyeong over the past few days.

Jaebum adjusts in his seat, sinking into the couch cushions with a self-satisfied curl to his lips. “Well, I’m just about ready to not walk ever again.”

Jinyoung smiles, watching him.

His lack of response makes Jaebum open his eyes, focus his soft, hazy gaze on him.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Jinyoung says immediately. He hesitates, reconsidering. “It’s just … it’s just been a while since I’ve seen you like this.” So carefree and relaxed; comfortable in Jinyoung’s presence. “That’s all.”

Jaebum touches the tip of his tongue to his lip. “It’s been a good trip. I’m enjoying it. Are you, Jinyoung?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you enjoying it?”

Jinyoung looks at him, “More than I thought I would.”

Jaebum looks surprised at his candour, and Jinyoung smirks, playful. “I’m just being honest.”

Jaebum laughs. After a long moment, he sighs a little wistfully. “I’m enjoying spending as much time as I can with Yugyeom.”

Jinyoung’s stomach twists. Heat prickling over his arms and his neck.

“You’re really good with him, you know that?” he tells him.

“You are too.”

Running his hand through his hair, Jinyoung sighs. He places his can on the coffee table next to Jaebum’s own, just for something to do, feeling small under the other man’s gaze.

“Lately it doesn’t feel that way.”

“Why? Because he’s being difficult? Jinyoung, children ar-,”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jinyoung interrupts indelicately. “It’s just-. This…,” he gestures the two of them on the couch, “between us, it’s been really hard on him. He doesn’t say anything, but I know it is.”

Jaebum hums, agreeing but not verbalising it. Jinyoung twitches, wanting him to just say something. But he doesn’t so he bites down on his lip, turns back to the TV. It’s switched programmes in the time they’ve been talking. Jinyoung doesn’t recognise anyone in it.

“You’re trying your best,” Jaebum says, from beside him, long after the conversation is over. So long, it takes Jinyoung a second to figure out what he’s referring to. “We both are. That’s all that matters.”

That’s all he says. Then he falls silent.

Later, Jinyoung peels himself off of the couch to follow after Jaebum. The TV is switched off, plunging the room into mostly-dark nothingness.

The light upstairs is still on, just in case the kid wakes up, so Jinyoung can still fully make out the build of Jaebum’s back as he walks behind him.

Jaebum turns around, and Jinyoung runs into him, catching himself with his hands on the other man’s body.

He moves to take a step back, but Jaebum’s hand winds forward to cradle Jinyoung’s head. His palm is large and warm; gentle against his jaw.

Jinyoung’s mouth dries out, and he can’t look away from where Jaebum’s face inches closer and closer. He’s too stunned to say anything as Jaebum’s other hand comes to rest on the dip of his waist, his dark eyes flickering between Jinyoung’s lips and his eyes.

He ducks his head in, nudging the tip of Jinyoung’s nose with his own. And Jinyoung can only sigh, eyes fluttering shut as Jaebum’s mouth slides over his.

His lips capture Jinyoung’s, encasing them in warmth, and he kisses him long and hard. Jaebum’s hand trembles where it cups his jaw, and when their lips eventually part, they do so unwillingly, clinging to the softness of each other until the very last moments.

Jinyoung can feel Jaebum’s exhales on his face, feels the way his heart pounds in his chest cavity.

Jaebum readjusts, tilting his head to fit better against Jinyoung, presses his other hand tight against the small of Jinyoung’s back and kisses him again, kisses him deeper.

His tongue slips into Jinyoung’s mouth, and Jinyoung’s entire body softens, leaving nothing but a sigh between them.

Jaebum tastes of ice cold coca-cola as he licks into him, and the movement of his mouth is familiar, deft. He groans, deep in chest, teeth sinking into the red blush Jinyoung’s full bottom lip.

He sighs with his whole body, mouth working against Jinyoung’s lips, body tucked in close like he can’t get enough.

His breath is hot, wet; anguished, he murmurs, “Jinyoung…,” and kisses him again.

Jinyoung doesn’t know what it is about that word, his name. Whether it’s the way he said it, or the way his lips moved against his when he did - but it shakes him.

He jerks his head to the side, Jaebum’s warm lips dragging across his cheek.

They’re still pressed close together, chest to thigh. Jinyoung’s hands are on Jaebum’s chest, trapped between them.

Both of them are breathing heavily, but Jinyoung can feel Jaebum’s nervous apprehension rolling off of him in waves.

With the back of his hand, Jinyoung gently pushes him away.

“Jinyoun-”

Jinyoung pushes him again, harder this time, putting enough distance between them that he can storm past him, crashing into the dark, silent kitchen.

His lips are still tingling, he can taste the phantom candied-sugar of Jaebum’s mouth on his tongue; and he’s still trembling too, when he reaches to flick the light switch on.

The yellow overhead light is so bright it’s almost sterile. Jinyoung can barely see anything, struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness.

There are dishes piled up in the sink that they’ve yet to get to, clean ones in a haphazard stack on the side, flyers advertising events in Gapyeong on the rickety wooden table.

Jinyoung stands in front of the sink, rubbing his palms harshly over his face. Whispering, chanting, “ _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ ”

He can’t even remember the last time he’d kissed Jaebum. It was way before their official break-up, probably between the moments when their promises never to go to bed angry fell through, and their hurried, rough make-up sex became less satisfying and more heartbreaking.

It was something that Jinyoung fixated on ... after; that they never had a final kiss, a final time - not a significant one anyway. He’d regretted it so much.  
  
But this .... this isn’t what he wants either.

A set of footsteps come to a stop behind him, just inside the threshold, laced with nervous energy.

Jaebum’s voice is rough, low. “I’m sorry, Jinyoung.”

Rage flares up inside of Jinyoung, like it’s tearing a hole through him. His palms feel red-hot when he places them on the cool metal edge of the sink. He drops his head forward, taking a moment to try and compose himself.

“You know,” he starts, voice tight with the amount it takes for him not to explode right there and then. “You’d think that after two years you’d come up with anything else other than an _I’m sorry.”_ He pushes off against the sink, turns to face him. “I’m sick of your apologies, Jaebum.”

Jaebum’s voice sticks together, when he speaks.

“I’m sor-,” he stops. “I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about you stop with all your excuses, and start giving me actual explanations.” He asks. “What the _hell_ was that about?”

“I-,” Jaebum stops, licks his dry lips. “I read it wrong. I thought-”

“You thought wrong,” Jinyoung interrupts; cold, hard.

Jaebum’s entire face changes in an instant, hurt flickers over his face, but he immediately covers it up with an equally hard expression. The meekness in his voice is all but gone, replaced with deep-set indignation.

Lips curling over his teeth, he demands, “Did I?”

“You’re really full of yourself,” Jinyoung bristles, refusing to back down (even if the change in Jaebum’s tone has thrown him for a loop, the playing field tilted back in the other man’s favour).

Jaebum scoffs; cynical, bitter smile on his face. He steps further into the room, “Is that why you kissed me too?”

Jinyoung’s cheeks blaze, he feels hot in an entirely different way now. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you better than anyone else in this world, Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, and then he falls silent - letting the heaviness of his words hang between them.

Jinyoung hates how emotional he gets with Jaebum. It’s like the tough exterior that he works so hard on cultivating is all but dissolved whenever they face each other.

He swallows hard.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he says, but his voice almost fails him. “I’m going to bed.”

He walks towards the door, eyes averted, and careful to not brush any part of his body against Jaebum.

But Jinyoung should have known that Jaebum wouldn’t be willing to leave it at that.

“Whatever Jinyoung wants, Jinyoung gets, right?” he says from behind him, voice tacky with animosity.

Jinyoung stops, turning around with a deep breath. His fist tightens into a shaking ball by his side. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jaebum licks the corner of his lips, and everything about his posture and his gestures reminds Jinyoung of the way they used to bicker and pick at each other, not leaving a single surface unturned.

“When was the last time you listened to me, Jinyoung?” he demands. “When’s the last time that you let me finish? That you didn’t cut me off? Stop me from explaining something, or just stopped a conversation because you didn’t want to talk about it?”

Jinyoung’s breath stutters in his chest, his voice is thin, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“We’re never going to get past this,” Jaebum gestures between them, and Jinyoung hates how condescending he can be, “if you don’t learn to listen.”

“Why?” Jinyoung snaps, anger finally rising to the surface with a yell. “ _Why_ do I have to listen? Why do I always have to be the one who’s calm? Who’s understanding?”

“Jinyoung-”

“No,” Jinyoung punctuates, cutting him off harshly. “Why can’t I just _feel_ , Jaebum?”

“You’re doing it right now,” Jaebum yells back, vein raising under the thin skin of his neck. He’s shouting in order to be heard over Jinyoung’s voice. “You always misconstrue things. Because you hear what you _think_ people are saying instead of what is actually being said.”

“What is it that I _think_ I’m hearing, then,” Jinyoung challenges, raising his voice to match. “Go on then. Since you know so much about me.”

There’s a heavy, weighted silence. Jaebum and Jinyoung appraise each other, eyes locked, like two bulls readying for a fight.

“What?” Jinyoung says, sardonic. “You don’t have anything to say?”

Jaebum shifts, moves to walk away, but Jinyoung echoes his movements.

“This is what you do, right?” Jinyoung taunts, but his eyes are pricking in the corners. “Throw out accusations and then leave without an explanation. Leave people behind when you can’t handle your shit anymore.”

“ _Don’t_ say that,” Jaebum warns.

“Why not?” Jinyoung presses. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before. Not like you didn’t throw away the single most important relationship in your life. You didn’t even see Yugyeom for weeks after-”

Jaebum explodes, his words rattling through Jinyoung, “Because _you_ didn’t let me see him!”

“You left us _,_ ” Jinyoung screams back.

“I left _you_ , not my son.”

It stuns Jinyoung into silence. He doesn’t know what to say.

It’s just a slight adjustment of words, but it hurts. _So_ much. His breath stutters out of him, his knees feel weak, and his eyes cloud over with tears.

In front of him, Jaebum himself seems taken aback.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, there’s a faint red flush under his skin. All of a sudden he looks much older than Jinyoung has ever seen him look. “That came out wrong.”

Jinyoung sniffles, loud. When he blinks, his tears fall over his lashes, wetting his cheek. He wipes them quickly with the back of his hand.

“What did you mean, then?”

Jaebum watches him steadily.

“I left you,” he repeats, kinder this time, if that’s even possible. “But it was the worst mistake of my life, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung scoffs, pressing his palms into his eyes. His tears will not stop streaming.

“It’s true,” Jaebum insists.

“A mistake is for school-books,” Jinyoung says, words scraping his throat in their effort to not burst out. “Not for when you leave your boyfriend and your child in the lurch.”

Jaebum takes a moment.

“You’re right,” he says. “I know..., I know how much I hurt you.”

Jinyoung laughs, it bursts out of him even as he hiccoughs on his tears. “No. You have no idea.”

He wonders what he must look like right now, all red-rimmed eyes and trembling mouth.

“You … you _destroyed_ me,” his breath catches every other word, but he can’t make the tears stop. He can feel the tension of an oncoming headache wrapping around his head. Jaebum looks devastated. “You broke my heart, Jaebum. And-, … and it took _everything_ I had to put myself back together again.”

He still remembers the night Jaebum left. Jinyoung went numb from sitting for so long, from crying for so long. He stayed there for a long time, immobile. Eventually he dragged himself to bed in the minute hours of the morning. And rose, like a shadow of himself, when his alarm rang at exactly 06:30 AM. He had a son to dress and work to go to, after all.

“You left,” he continues. “And I don’t even know why.”

Jaebum bites his lip, on the verge of tears himself. He curls in on himself.

“We weren’t good together,” he begins. Jinyoung vividly recalls the conversation he had with Minhyuk the week before. His heart squeezes. “I wasn’t good to you. It’s just-. I didn’t expect it to be so _hard_. To be a parent, and-, it sounds so stupid now, but it terrified me. I was _suffocating,_  Jinyoung.” He looks at him then, eyes pleading. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Jinyoung doesn’t know what to say. He squeezes his eyes tight, they feel like they’ve been rubbed raw. “If you had just spoken to me … if you had just told me-”

“How many times,” Jaebum interrupts. “How many times did we sit down at our kitchen table and I told you, I _told_ you, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung shakes his head, mouth turning downwards as he represses a new wave of tears, even as Jaebum continues.

“You just didn’t listen.”

“That’s not true,” Jinyoung refutes. If he knew - _really_ knew - he would have moved heaven and earth in trying to help him. He would’ve been disappointed, he wouldn’t have understood, he’d be angry, even - he knows that now - but Jinyoung would have _tried_. Jaebum didn’t. Didn’t give him the chance to either.

“I thought you were stressed with work,” he says, sniffling loudly. “I thought-, I thought-, you were cheating on me.”

Jaebum blanches. “Never,” he tells him. “Not even once. It never even crossed my mind.”

It’s a small consolation among this entire terrible ordeal, but it still soothes Jinyoung to know that.

They’re quiet for a moment. Both struggling to process the harsh words and harsher truth laid out between them.

Jinyoung licks his lips. Kissing Jaebum feels like a lifetime ago, now.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asks, eyes flickering to Jaebum’s face, though not quite meeting his eyes. “Why now?”

Jaebum swallows visibly.

“Because…,” he starts, voice weak. “Because … I want you Jinyoung. Christ, I _still_ want you.”

Jinyoung’s heart drops all the way down to his stomach. That’s not the answer he was expecting. Or the one he wanted. The anger rushes back into him, in a tight tidal wave that he has no hopes of preventing.

“Because you _want_ me?” he repeats. After all of this, all of the heartache he’s had to endure tonight was just because Jaebum wanted to fuck him? He swallows back his emotions, his pride, and he sneers. “What, Youngjae’s not satisfying you so you had to go for the next best thing? Is he not sucking you off well enough, Jaebum?”

Jaebum’s brows furrow, but his voice is steel edged when he speaks, “I didn’t say that.”

“Not in as many words, maybe,” Jinyoung retorts scornfully. “But you didn’t have to.”

Jaebum’s jaw sets, and he takes a hard, brusque breath.

“Why do you always have to block each and every single progressive step we take in our relationship?” he demands, voice rising dangerously. “I made a _mistake_ , Jinyoung, and I’m paying for it. I’ll pay it for the rest of my life. But you won’t let me be better. ”

“So now it’s my fault?” Jinyoung yells, challenging him. It feels cathartic to let it all out like this. “You left, Jaebum. When Yugyeom needed you the most. When _I_ needed you the most. You trying to fuck me because you think I’m easy isn’t going to erase what you did. I’ll never forget it, Jaebum, not ever.”

Jinyoung breathes heavily, chest lifting up with the strength it takes for him not to fall apart. The foundation they’ve built between them is not strong enough to bear the weight of a love this heavy.

There’s a thin cry from the depths of the dark house. Yugyeom.

It starts out slow, but builds fast and desperate until it’s all that Jinyoung can hear.

Yugyeom's stranded halfway down the darkened stairs, clinging to the handrail in his soft pyjamas and his pillow-streaked cheeks.

His eyes are squeezed shut, he’s crying with his entire body, and Jinyoung feels … awful. Like a sinkhole has just opened up in his chest, he can’t even move.

Jaebum rushes towards the kid, brushing past Jinyoung to pick him up. Jinyoung leans against the rickety table, and watches the way that Yugyeom curls into Jaebum’s shoulder, crying, tucking his face into his neck.

He takes a deep breath, he’s hurting a lot. He hurt Jaebum too, he knows that. But Yugyeom is the most important now. He should not have to suffer from whatever is going on between his parents. Jinyoung won’t allow it anymore.

They have to fix this between them. They will.

Now, though, he has to comfort his son.

He takes one wobbly step after another and heads towards Yugyeom’s outstretched hand, reaching out for Jinyoung, even as he cries on his father’s shoulder.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that's that! i hope you liked it! come yell at me in the comments!! 
> 
> p.s. i know a lot of people are probably really pissed at jaebum still, but pls know he's trying 
> 
> p.p.s. if you wanna cry (some more) this week's song is a banger (i have a crush on james bay he cute) 
> 
> p.p.p.s. this isn't about me, but pls be kind to fic writers, okay? they put in a lot of work into their creations and they're sensitive souls ^.^


	6. Heart of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooray! you guys get an extra 2k of words this chapter!

You know I need you, I can’t take it any longer

I’m without you but it’s clear that you belong here

From the start I was in too deep

[This love is moving through the heart of me.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uKqXk_qXpZg)

-

They hadn’t been in Gapyeong for long, but Jinyoung found that he had already gotten used to the serene calm of the place.

Now, he can hear the muffled sounds of Seoul’s burgeoning nightlife beyond the windows of his apartment. It’s familiar, comforting - but it’s also a little jarring, serving only to magnify the silence between he and Jaebum.

Yugyeom is passed out on Jinyoung’s shoulder; warm, steady breaths tickling the hairs on the nape of his neck.

It’s not very late, but it’s already past his bedtime. Jinyoung flicks on the living room light, putting down his work-bag on the couch before heading to the kid’s bedroom, one hand cupped carefully on the soft hair at the crown of his head, the other holding Yugyeom’s teddy.

With a bit of awkwardness, he manages to pull the duvet back, exposing the cool, pale-blue sheets of the bed so he can lay him down.

In the living room, he can hear Jaebum depositing Jinyoung’s suitcase on the floor. Then, he can hear his soft steps towards them in the bedroom.

Jinyoung leans forward, switching on Yugyeom’s night lamp, casting deep blue shadows of star constellations over the walls.

Yugyeom’s face scrunches, lips pressing together as he wakes up. He blinks hard and slow, and then he’s gazing drowsily at Jinyoung.

“Appa?” he sighs, pushing the back of his hand into the roundness of his soft cheek, rubbing his eye clumsily.

Jinyoung hums, hands reaching to unzip the duffel coat over the kid’s pyjamas. Knowing Yugyeom wouldn’t last the trip, Jinyoung had already dressed him in his sleep clothes before they got in the car.

Jaebum comes to a stop right behind Jinyoung, a solid presence over his shoulder. After a scant beat, Yugyeom’s hazy eyes wander past Jinyoung to focus on his father, and then he’s calling out for him.

“I’m here,” Jaebum assures him, stepping around Jinyoung, awkwardly trying to fit in the small space between the bedside table, and Jinyoung’s legs.

He runs his fingers through his son’s hair, lifts up his small shoulders for Jinyoung to remove his coat, and then presses gentle kisses over his cheeks until he falls back asleep.

After Jinyoung’s pulled the bedcovers back over Yugyeom, and his sleep toy, he and Jaebum retreat from the kid’s bedroom in mutual silence.

Jinyoung follows close behind the other man. They’ve barely spoken since the other night, when they argued. Hyper-aware of their son, and his happiness, they tried their best to continue to make the vacation a good one.

But it was like the magic had finished. The illusion broken.

Jaebum slips on his sneakers in front of the door. Jinyoung stands on the step, hands wrapped around himself, and watches him.

“Thank you for driving us back,” he tells him, then he lets his teeth sink into the corner of his mouth.

Jaebum doesn’t look up, but he does pause. He stops only for a brief second, and then he’s tightening his laces. He’s hurt too.

“Not a problem,” he says when he’s done. He opens the apartment door, glancing over his shoulder at Jinyoung. “I’ll speak to you soon? The flight is next week and-”

“I know,” Jinyoung interrupts. He can’t quite bring himself to look Jaebum in the eye. “I’ll call you and-, and we’ll talk.”

Jaebum clutches his hand around his car keys. He looks like he has so much more to say, but he restrains himself, remains silent.

Instead, he just licks his lips, nods to Jinyoung and ducks out of the door. He doesn’t even give Jinyoung a chance to say goodbye, goodnight, (and drive safe).

Jinyoung closes the door behind him, leans his head against the cool surface of the wood until he hears the muffled sound of the elevator doors groaning open, and then closing tightly shut.

-

Jinyoung falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow - deep, dreamless.

A few hours later, though, he wakes up to his mattress dipping with the weight of a small someone else. Yugyeom’s hands are warm but clumsy in their sleepy eagerness.

Jinyoung is equally as sleepy though. He exhales through his nose, eyes barely open, and pulls the kid into the warmth of the covers. Yugyeom fusses around in his arms, squirming until he can lay his head on his father’s chest in just the right way - he calms, finally, when he can hear Jinyoung’s heartbeat.

-

It’s not often that Jinyoung wakes up before Yugyeom. The kid is drooling, right into Jinyoung’s pyjama shirt, creating a gross, sticky spot. Mouth opened, leg hitched over his father’s belly, cheeks round and plump.

Jinyoung can’t resist pinching both cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, laughing quietly to himself at how Yugyeom’s mouth puckers so cutely.

He carefully extracts himself from the kid, and gets out of bed. In the bathroom he washes his face, takes a quick shower, and even manages to shave in peace.

It’s not until Jinyoung is dressed, in sweats and a loose shirt, that Yugyeom wakes up. Jinyoung’s on the couch, looking over his emails on his phone.

The kid wanders into the living room in a daze, pyjama pants hiked up his legs and a bird’s nest for hair. He goes straight for Jinyoung, slipping in between his knees.

Jinyoung takes a big sip of his coffee, placing the mug down, before he wraps his arm around the kid and rubs his back.

“Good morning,” he says to him, voice hushed. “Are you hungry?”

Yugyeom nods, pushing his face into Jinyoung’s neck. He pulls back, reaching up to trace the pads of his fingers on Jinyoung’s newly shaved jaw.

“What would you like?”

Yugyeom doesn’t even appear to think about it. His mouth opens.

But just as swiftly, Jinyoung cuts in. “Not ice cream.”

Yugyeom looks disappointed, face falling dramatically into a pout. But he quickly concedes defeat, and Jinyoung can’t help but chuckle. The kid scratches at the back of his head, shrugging.

Jinyoung ends up making him a stack of sad-looking potato pancakes (they really don’t have much else in the fridge or the pantry) and some fruit juice.

But Yugyeom's not in the living room anymore. He’s left the couch, cartoons still playing on the TV, and disappeared into the hallway. Jinyoung can hear him wander into his bedroom first, then Jinyoung’s bedroom, and then the bathroom at the end of the hall.

When he reappears, he crosses the living room and goes towards the front-door. Jinyoung represses his automatic instinct to yell for him to not open the door and waits. Yugyeom wanders back into the living room soon after, brows furrowed, fingers picking at his lips.

“What are you looking for, Yugyeom?” Jinyoung asks him, lifting the edge on one pancake with long chopsticks.

“Appa?”

“Yes?” Jinyoung says, glancing at him over his shoulder.

“Where is Daddy?”

Jinyoung stops, the question going right through his chest, simultaneously ice cold and scorching hot. After a second, he places his chopsticks on the counter and turns the heat beneath the frying pan all the way down to low. He wipes his hands on the tea towel, then turns to face his son.

“Daddy’s gone home, Yugyeom,” he says, hating the way Yugyeom’s expression shutters, disappointment misting over him. His fingers stop plucking at his mouth. Jinyoung’s voice is gentle when he elaborates. “Vacation is over now, baby. Daddy goes to sleep in his house in Yongsan.”

Yugyeom doesn’t say anything.

But Jinyoung can’t ignore the way he looks quietly distressed, a little confused even - dark brows crinkled on his face.

“Come here,” Jinyoung tells him. “Come eat.” He watches worriedly as the kid walks over to him.

His stomach churns, but he helps Yugyeom climb into the seat, places a plate in front of him and gives him his Disney-themed training chopsticks (though the kid ignores them in lieu of using his fingers).

Jinyoung sighs, watching the mess he makes of the table and his cheeks. Yugyeom reaches for the cup of apple juice, greasy fingers making smudges on the plastic. Jinyoung holds the butt of the cup steady, making sure it doesn’t tip over as the kid is drinking.

This situation with Jaebum is stressful, to say the least, and Jinyoung knows he needs to figure this entire situation out. For Yugyeom’s sake.

But it’s difficult trying to figure out where to begin. He just doesn’t know what to do about Jaebum.

-

“Kill him,” Suji says, a few days later.

They’re in the downstairs area of a trendy bar in Hongdae, sitting at a table with a huge glass lazy-Susan in the middle that holds a steaming platter of Chinese-style hot pot.

Momo chokes on her spoonful of spicy broth.

Hyunwoo sighs, patiently warning, “No.”

Jinyoung can barely see in front of him. Steam billows up from their communal pot, and the interior of the restaurant is dark - all wood furnishings, low lighting and vintage-style books stacked on wall-mounted bookshelves.

It’s just the four of them tonight; Yugyeom is at Jaebum’s.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, dumping sliced green onions into the milder, Thai-curry broth closest to his side of the table.

“I’m not going to kill the father of my child,” he says, swirling the cooking chopsticks to disperse the ingredients. “But thank you for your input, Suji-ssi.”

She cocks her head, leaning back in her seat, fingers pulling the cashmere of her turtleneck sweater up above her mouth. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail tonight, and she’s wearing no makeup, tiredness discolouring beneath her eyes.

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” she replies, in the same simpering tone as his own, “Jinyoung-ssi.”

“By suggesting murder?” Jinyoung scoffs. He immediately regrets it, offering a tight apologetic smile to the waitress who is squeezing between their table and the next. She looks aghast at the snippet of conversation she had the misfortune to overhear.

Suji presses her lips together. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you never answered the question I texted you last week.”

Jinyoung looks at her warningly, she’s the only one he’s confided in about the trip. But he hasn’t told her about the kiss either.

“Drop it,” he warns, narrowing his eyes at her.

They stare at each other; one annoyed, the other self-satisfied.

On the other side of the table, Momo tucks her hair behind her small ears, the red broth she was sipping on has stained the corner of her mouth and the collar of her shirt. “What question?”

“Yes, Jinyoung-ah,” Suji is quick to add. “What question?”

Jinyoung licks his lips, caught.  

“Nothing,” he answers. He cracks and turns away from Suji’s knowing look, glancing at Momo beside her instead. “She’s just being annoying. Let’s change the subject, please.”

“I agree,” says Hyunwoo, sitting beside Jinyoung. He’d been clocked out of the conversation as he fiddled with the controls of the portable burner that their hot pot is perched on. His bowl tucked close to his chest, empty save for a few remnants of broth.

They eat quietly for a few minutes, everyone always willing to follow Hyunwoo’s lead. Jinyoung’s ears are filled with the sound of quiet, dedicated eating, and the background murmur of the restaurant.

Beneath the table, Suji kicks lightly at his exposed ankle with the toe of her sneaker. She smiles at him across the table. No hard feelings, her eyes say.

Jinyoung taps her foot back, returning it.

Hyunwoo fishes out cooked slices of thinly cut beef from the pot, laying it out in his bowl in a small, compact mound.

Suji chews thoughtfully, watching him; a warm smile tints her expression when he looks up and catches her.

“What?” he says, cheeks plumping up with his abashed smile.

“Do you have enough there on your plate,” she teases, hand propped up beneath her chin, chopsticks still delicately held between her fingers.

“I need to eat a lot,” he says defensively. “I exercise. You would know if you didn’t dodge my invitations to the gym.”

“Oppa,” Suji groans, rolling her eyes, still affectionate. “I’m not going with you to a gross, sweaty gym-”

“Hey,” Momo cuts in, offended. “My gym isn’t gross _or_ sweaty.”

“-so let’s find a different bonding activity okay?”

Jinyoung sits back in his chair, watching as they playfully bicker back and forth. He holds his hands up though, gracefully bowing out of joining the argument, when Hyunwoo turns to him.

A little while later, once they’ve cycled through some more conversations, (Momo does _not_ have a burgeoning relationship with a certain Mina from a certain girl group that a certain someone is training.) and a few more bowls of hot pot, the subject of Jaebum is, unfortunately, reignited.

“Oppa,” Momo begins tentatively. Both Hyunwoo and Jinyoung look up at her, but her eyes are on Jinyoung. “You’ve been avoiding talking about your trip. Before during, and after going on it. Did everything go okay?”

Momo is usually the most reserved of their group of friends, but she’s also the one who is most often worried about everyone else. As the youngest, and as a person with a naturally quieter personality, she’s not often confrontational, so Jinyoung’s surprised at the directness of her question.

He always forgets how much she observes, quietly but succinctly.

“It was fine,” Jinyoung says, and he can’t quite escape the pull of her dark eyes. He clears his throat. “It was normal.”

“Normal?” Hyunwoo parrots, taken aback.

“Define normal,” Suji tacks on, “because going on a week-long vacation with an ex, especially one who treated you the way Jaebum did, is not in the typical definition of normal.”

“I-,” Jinyoung sighs. He feels hot from the gas burner on the table, and the pressure of explaining himself to the three pairs of eyes trained on him. “He’s not _just_ an ex,” he settles on saying. “He’s Yugyeom’s father. And I want to preserve at least some semblance of a relationship with him, for our son’s sake.”

Suji flicks her eyes towards Hyunwoo.

“Oppa,” she asks. “What do you think?”

He’s the oldest out of their group, and so unwittingly became the voice of reason amongst any and all disputes, hesitations and overall bad life choices.

“I think,” Hyunwoo begins hesitantly. “I think Jinyoungie is old enough to make his own decisions.”

Jinyoung throws Suji a smug look.

“And,” Hyunwoo continues. “His own mistakes.”

Jinyoung startles. He turns towards him, affronted. “Mistakes? Hyung, _nothing_ happened.”

“I didn’t say it did,” Hyunwoo says delicately. His cheeks are red, but he keeps steady eye contact with Jinyoung. “But you can sometimes be a little hard-headed.”

“Always,” Suji corrects.

“Some of the time, yeah,” Momo adds with a wince.

“I think,” Hyunwoo tells Jinyoung next. He stops, adjusting his seat forward so that the person trying to exit behind their table can get through. “I think that you know best, in this situation, obviously. But I also think that there’s value in listening to what he has to say, even if you don’t agree with it.”

“I disagree,” Suji refutes, shaking her head immediately. “Oppa, you don’t even _like_ him.”

“I don’t have to like him.”

“Then why are you advocating for him?”

Jinyoung doesn’t interrupt them. He’s curious of the answer too.

“I’m not advocating for him,” Hyunwoo explains, exasperated, his hands flex on the table - like they want to turn into fists, but don’t quite get all the way there. “But I did speak to Mark, and he said that Jaebum has gotten his life back on track now. He’s trying. That’s all I could wish for, for Yugyeom’s sake and for Jinyoung’s too.”

Suji doesn’t look convinced.

“He’s Jaebum’s best friend, of course he’s going to say that.” She wipes at her cheek with her sleeve, pushing back the strands of hair that had loosened from her hair tie to frame her face in frustration. “He’s completely biased,” she exclaims. She jerks her hand towards Jinyoung, illustrating. “Jinyoung’s an ass, but I’d still sing his praises to anyone who’d ask.”

“Gee," Jinyoung comments dryly, lips around his straw; his cola is a little flat. "Thanks.”

“Regardless,” Hyunwoo continues, swiping his hand against his brow, Jinyoung can tell he’s getting close to his limit. He doesn’t enjoy getting overly invested in other people’s relationships, even if he feels like he often has to. “That’s enough now, Suji-yah. It’s not our business. It would be best to concentrate on your own.”

Her brow crinkles, but Jinyoung can’t read the expression that flickers across her face before it hardens. He and Momo sit quietly on the sidelines.

“How’s Minhyuk oppa?” Suji asks Hyunwoo instead, her shimmery nail polish disappearing beneath the folds of the tissue she’s grasping firmly. “Still making excuses to avoid you?”

Just like that, their table becomes a vacuum; all the air sucked out of it.

Suji regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.

“Oppa-,” she starts.

Hyunwoo doesn’t respond. For all the jokes they make about him being emotionally stunted, he’s a person who wears his heart on his sleeve, and it’s so easy to see the hurt on his face.

Jinyoung had thought things were getting better between him and Minhyuk. But he knows, better than anyone, how these things go. Even progress has its setbacks.

Hyunwoo wipes his mouth carefully, then he stands up, grabbing his leather jacket where he’d draped it over the back of his seat. Without a word, he walks towards the cash desk towards the front of the restaurant.

Suji makes to go after him, but Momo halts her, placing her hand on top of hers.

“I’ll go,” she offers, waiting until Suji nods before she takes off after Hyunwoo.

Jinyoung looks at Suji. “That was uncalled for.”

She bites her lip, looking very sorry. “I know.”

The weird mood hangs over them even as they pick up their things from the table and trudge, one after the other, up the spiral staircase that takes them up to the ground level and to the door that spills out into the heart of Hongdae.

Suji remains quiet even in the car, as Jinyoung drives her home. He navigates the quiet streets of her neighbourhood with familiar ease, and parks underneath her apartment building - close to the elevator.

He turns off the engine. She takes off her seatbelt. But they don’t otherwise move.

“You want to tell me what that was about?”

“No.”

“Suji,” Jinyoung sighs.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at the cabin?”

Jinyoung’s cheeks heat up, remembering the softness of Jaebum’s lips over his own.

“No,” he says first, and then quickly amends. “Nothing happened.”

Suji turns her shrewd gaze on him, “Then why are you so flustered?”

“I-,” he begins, but he doesn’t know why he’s keeping a secret this big to himself. It’s eating up at him, and he can’t stop thinking about it. He and Suji have never had any secrets between them, he doesn’t really want to start now. He licks his lips, forces himself to say the next words before he can talk himself out of it. “He kissed me.”

It takes a few moments for it to sink in for Suji, for her to really compute what he just said. But then her gaze snaps towards him.

She shakes her head, as if that will make the words make more sense, “What?”

“He kissed me.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Yes. He did.”

They stare at each other.

“Was it a good kiss?”

Jinyoung bursts out laughing, shocked. “Why would you ask me that?”

“What?” she says defensively. “You said he was a good kisser.”

He did say that. Years ago now, back when Jinyoung was just starting to memorise the taste of Jaebum’s kisses.

“And then what happened?” she asks.

“And then,” Jinyoung sighs, hands gripping his steering wheel. “We argued. A lot,” his fingers tap on the leather. “We said a lot of ugly things to each other.”

Suji mulls this over, shifting in her seat. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I know I’m generally quite frustrated with him, not for lack of good reason. I don’t like him or what he did to you. But I am sorry. For both of you.” She pauses, considering. “All three of you actually. This is hard any way you look at it.”

Jinyoung hums, dropping his hands on to his lap. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. He looks at his best friend, long and steady.

“You should apologise to hyung,” he tells her.

She bites down on her lip, nodding slowly. “I will,” she replies. “I’ll call him tonight. We’ll sort it out.”

“You can’t be like this forever.”

She sighs in exasperation, pushing her hair away from her face. Jinyoung can’t tell if the frustration is aimed at him, or herself. But he knows she’s a little embarrassed too. “I know.”

“Suji-.”

“Jinyoung-ah,” she pleads, cutting him off. “I _know_.”

He holds her gaze, “How are things going with actor-ssi?”

“Terribly,” she laughs, only half joking. “Thank you for reminding me.”

Jinyoung runs a hand through his hair, it seems a lot quieter in the car. His voice sounds far too loud. “Why are you with him, Suji?”

She shrugs one shoulder, blasé, but she doesn’t quite meet his eye. “He’s a fun guy, Jinyoung. I enjoy being with him.”

“Do you think you can fall in love with him?” Jinyoung presses.

She presses her lips together, they’re a little dry. Her lip balm wore off hours ago. “Why ask if you already know the answer?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Jinyoung tells her. “Because you should be with someone who makes time for you, who makes you happy to be in a relationship, who makes you look forward to the future.”

“I could say the same for you,” she retorts. Her hand holds on to the car door handle, trembling tight against the cold metal.

“I’m not the one in love with a man who’s already taken,” Jinyoung counters (even though, a little voice in the back of his mind reminds him, that’s not quite true).

Suji’s mouth parts, at a complete loss. She’s never really learned how to deal with a confronted inner truth. For a split second she looks as young as she was when they first met.

“I’m not in love with him,” she denies, but it’s a weak refusal and they both know it.

Jinyoung thinks back to tonight, and all other nights like it, to the way Suji smiles at Hyunwoo, how she’s always looking at him, how she always gravitates towards him.

“You could have fooled me,” Jinyoung says, trying to be as kind as possible.

"Oppa is in a relationship," Suji tells him. She's staring out of the windshield into the dark, empty lot. "He's happy, even if they're not in a good place right now. He doesn't know about any of this, about how I-, how I feel. I'd like to keep it that way. Please. I'll get over it soon."

"I hope you do," Jinyoung replies. She's kept this secret heavy in her heart for too long.  

The air in the car seems stuffy now, too hot for either of them. Suji unlocks the car on her side, gathers her things.

“I’m heading up,” she says, popping the door open. She looks back at him, smile back on her face. “I’ll speak to you soon?”

“Yes, definitely,” Jinyoung says. He leans over the seat to her, just before she closes the door. “Suji-yah?”

“Yes?”

“Date better men.”

She laughs, coat bundled up over her arm. “You too.”

-

Jinyoung pulls the kid up on his lap, holding him tight.

“Can we talk a little bit?” he asks. He can’t help the way his voice turns syrupy and sweet. Yugyeom looks the epitome of cute today, in his linen overalls and printed superheroes t-shirt.

He seems to be fully over his cold now, too.

“Appa want to talk with me?” the kid asks, twisting his head so he can look up at Jinyoung. His legs are dangling over his dad’s knees, bare toes twitching.

“If you would allow me to,” Jinyoung says. “I would like that very much.”

Yugyeom’s been a little more reserved since the end of the trip. Not as sad as he was the morning after the argument, but certainly not as happy as he was before it either. Jinyoung just wants to make him carefree again.

The kid twists in his father’s hold, digging in knobbly knees into the muscle of Jinyoung’s thighs as he sits up.

“Okay,” he answers easily. He rubs his knuckles into the prickly light stubble on Jinyoung’s jaw. “I want to talk with Appa too.”

“Good,” Jinyoung says, almost to himself. He calms, content to watch the kid for a while.

Yugyeom is fully focused on his activity. He’s a very tactile boy, Jinyoung knows, he loves exploring texture. He likes the feeling of Jinyoung’s stubble against the softness of his own skin.

But Jinyoung doesn’t want to drag this conversation out for too long, though. He can’t become too distracted, he needs to bite the bullet.

“Baby,” he begins, smiling quickly when Yugyeom’s eyes dart to his. He wonders if there was trepidation recognisable in his voice. “Has-, has Daddy spoken to you about his trip?”

It takes him a second to understand what Jinyoung is asking. But when he does, Yugyeom frowns. Jinyoung doesn’t really know what to make of it.

“Daddy is going to somewhere else,” the kid says. His hands drops from Jinyoung’s jaw to play with the decorative buttons of his shirt.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung replies, gentle. “He is. Did he tell you about it?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “Daddy said it would be a long time.” Then he stops, thinking about it. “A long time?” he asks Jinyoung, eyebrow quirked. “A month is long time?”

Jinyoung can’t help but laugh in surprise, Yugyeom astonishes him every single day. He pinches his cheek.

“You are _such_ a clever boy, Yugyeom-ah,” he gushes, smiling indulgently. Watching as the kid puffs up with pride. “Your daddy loves you so much, you know that? So much that he doesn’t want to spend a single moment away from you. Do you know what he asked me?”

Yugyeom, rosy-cheeked and pleased, answers, “What?”

“He asked,” Jinyoung continues, forcing through the lump in his throat, “if this time, he could take Yugyeommie with him. On his trip.”

Yugyeom’s eyes flicker to his father’s, shocked.

“Yugyeom,” he repeats, hushed like he can’t believe it. “Yugyeom go with Daddy on a trip?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says, smiling tightly. “Would you like that?”

Yugyeom doesn't jump at the chance, like Jinyoung was expecting him to. Instead, he presses his chin to his chest and looks at Jinyoung furtively.

“You can tell Appa the truth,” Jinyoung encourages him. “You can tell me how you feel, I promise I won’t be mad. No matter your answer. Would you like to go with your daddy, Yugyeom-ah?”

Yugyeom doesn’t look at Jinyoung, but he nods. Hesitant, at first, and then more sure. After, he immediately tips forward, hiding his face in Jinyoung’s neck.

Jinyoung strokes the back of his head, pats his butt.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he says, sincerely. He loves the weight of Yugyeom in his arms. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry. Appa’s not mad. And you never have to be afraid to tell me something. Anything.”

Yugyeom pulls back, shy still.

“Appa, won’t you be sad?”

“A month is a long time,” Jinyoung says, avoiding the question. “But it’s not forever.”

Yugyeom’s chubby fingers go back to playing with Jinyoung’s buttons.

“I don’t want Appa to be sad,” he mumbles, fingers clumsy.

“I’m not going to be sad,” Jinyoung assures him. “Because it makes me happy when you’re happy. Even if I will miss you to the moon and all the way back.”

Yugyeom doesn’t say anything for a long while. Plucking, and plucking at Jinyoung’s shirt.

When Jinyoung gently pries his hand away (he really likes this shirt) the kid looks up at him, torn.

“But-,” he says. “But Daddy made Appa cry.”

Jinyoung pauses, holding on to the kid’s wrist, so small in his hold. He never thinks he’s capable of holding so much love inside him, until he looks at his son.

“Yes, he did,” Jinyoung says carefully. “But he didn’t mean to.”

Yugyeom doesn’t know how to take this. He looks at Jinyoung, confused.

“Sometimes,” Jinyoung explains. “People hurt each other’s feelings because they don’t realise that what they’re doing or saying is hurtful. That’s why I always tell you to be gentle with your words. I’m really sorry you had to see that, Gyeom-ah. Grownups can be silly sometimes. But Daddy apologised, and he and I are going to have a long talk to make sure we don’t hurt each other’s feelings again.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath. “That doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore, it just means we have to be more gentle in the way we talk to each other. Because we both love you, and we don’t want to make you sad. Do you understand?”

Yugyeom nods, though Jinyoung is not really sure he does, and leans forward for a hug. Jinyoung holds him tight, closing his eyes to breathe in his baby scent, and presses a long kiss on his temple.

-

“What type of tea is this?” Jaebum asks Yugyeom, a few hours later.

They’re sitting on the floor of Jinyoung’s living room, on the blanket the kid had dragged from couch, with a variety of plastic food scattered around them.

Jaebum holds the pink teacup delicately between two of his fingers, the saucer is in his other hand.

“Strawberry,” Yugyeom informs him. “And lemon.”

He twists around, flicking unnecessary mounds of toys out of the way as he searches for something specifically. The chunky wedge of lemon, plastic yellow and textured, has tumbled beneath the couch.

Yugyeom ducks down for it. It barely fits in his hand, it’s so big. He holds it over Jaebum’s cup and squeezes, the soft plastic folding with a wheeze.

“All ready, Daddy,” he says, chucking it over his shoulder. “Is it yummy yet?”

Jaebum takes a sip. “It’s delicious.”

He looks ridiculous, in his oversized shirt and ripped jeans, holding a tiny plastic cup filled with nothing but air and their son’s imagination.

Jinyoung watches them from the kitchen table. His laptop fan is whirring agitatedly, he has eight emails open on his screen and an instant message display for his office.

They've been having a tea party for almost an hour now. Jinyoung’s invited too, his teacup is beside his laptop, but since he has work to do, Yugyeom has to content himself with the other guests.

Besides Jaebum there’s Cindy, the Barbie doll the kid had stolen from his nursery; Buck, the one and three-quarter-eyed teddy; Poco, his sleep bear; and, inexplicably, his fire engine too.

He tops up each of their cups from the teapot, smudged blue from the scribbles all over the cheap plastic. When it comes to his own, Yugyeom pours carefully, makes certain to blow on it to cool it a little and then takes a hesitant sip.

Jinyoung has to stop himself from physically cooing, his son is so cute. It takes longer for him to work like this, stealing glances at the living room every few moments, but he enjoys it - enjoys seeing Yugyeom so content.

When it’s time, he lets Jaebum give Yugyeom a bedtime snack (he’d eaten his dinner a little earlier today) and put him to bed.

Jaebum returns just as Jinyoung is powering down his laptop.

“Would you like some tea?” Jinyoung asks him, watching as he collapses on the couch. “Something real this time.”

“Yes,” Jaebum sighs, sinking into the couch. “Please.”

It’s weird that even after their argument, though they’re still awkward with each other, they’re more comfortable together than they have been in a long time.

He’s gotten used to Jaebum by his side, he guesses, even if they’ve swapped Gapyeong’s peaceful parks for Seoul’s busy streets.

Jinyoung doesn’t make tea the way that Jaebum does, all loose organic leaves, warmed ceramic pot, and careful movements. Instead, he dumps two tea bags, from a peppermint tea selection he picked up at eMart the week before, into two large mugs and pours boiling water over the top.

He places Jaebum’s, no sugar, on the coffee table in front of him before he sits back carefully with his own.

They sip carefully in quiet commiseration. A few minutes pass like this. It could almost be mistaken for tranquil, if not for the layer of nervous tension that forms an undercurrent between them.

The tea is too hot, scalding Jinyoung’s tongue and the palms of his hands. But it gives him something to do at least.

“So,” he starts, awkward. “We should talk.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum agrees. “We should.”

“I don’t want to fight,” Jinyoung asserts, not just because their son is sleeping soundly a hallway away. “So let’s try to be civil.”

“An eye for an eye,” Jaebum says. He glances at Jinyoung. “You promise to listen, _really_ listen.”

“You promise to not presume things about me.”

Jaebum doesn’t even hesitate. “Deal.”

It feels familiar, this.

Jaebum leans forward, placing his mug back on the coffee table. Jinyoung echoes him. Then they sit back, considering each other.

“Did he go to sleep alright?” Jinyoung asks.

Jaebum hums. “He was fussy, wanted to play more, insisted he wasn’t tired. You know how he is.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung agrees, picking at the fabric of the couch. He thinks about how sad the kid has been, and, in contrast, how calm and content he seems when he’s around both of them at the same time. “Do you-. Do you think we’re bad parents?”

Jaebum doesn’t answer for a long while. When does, it’s with a sigh.

“No,” he says. “But I think we’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

“Both of us,” Jinyoung emphasises.  
  
Jaebum looks a little surprised at his answer, he swallows heavily. “In different ways, and with different weights, but sure, both of us.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath.

“Someone once told me,” he comments, “that I shouldn’t punish you by not letting you be a father to our son. It’s not fair to Yugyeom. And I don’t want to be that kind of father. So I’m taking that advice in stride. This is, officially, a truce. But, I’m still ... _really_ hurt by what you did, Jaebum.”

“Jinyoung-”

“Wait,” Jinyoung rushes to say. “Please let me finish.” He waits until Jaebum nods at him. “I’m not sure there’s anything you’ll ever be able to do to right that wrong. But, for Yugyeom’s sake, I’m willing to try to get things better between us.”

“That’s all I want,” Jaebum says. “I want to be better. For Yugyeom. But for myself too.”

“I know,” Jinyoung replies. “I can see that. Right now though,  I’m still trying to process everything. I need more time.”

“Of course, Jinyoung,” the other man replies. “However long you need. I think,” he says this carefully. “The sooner the better. I still don’t completely understand everything I did, myself, or the kind of headspace I was in, but I do want to talk it out, to explain.”

Jinyoung bites down on his bottom lip. “I would like that.” He tells Jaebum. “I want to understand too.”

Jaebum exhales through his nose, all wound up from tension. He clears his throat. “Have you thought any more about America?”

There’s beat of silence, Jinyoung deliberating on his choice of words.

“A month is a long time, Jaebum,” Jinyoung says. He keeps his gaze steady on the man in front of him, how he’s trying hard to seem casual, even though Jinyoung can see how tightly he grips his jeans. “I-, I don’t think I-. I can’t do it.”

Jaebum’s lips part. Disappointment crashes over him, and then he’s pressing them tightly together.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says awkwardly. Then he falls silent, he’s curious what Jaebum’s reaction will be.

To his horror, Jaebum looks like he’s trying not to cry. He tips his head back, glaring at the ceiling for a second, and takes a deep, uneven breath. The corners of his eyes are wet, lips downturned.

“Okay,” he says, hoarse, but he’s not looking at Jinyoung. He licks his lips, and hesitates. “Is this because I kissed you?”

Yes. Jinyoung wants to say.

“No,” he tells him instead. “I just don’t want my-, _our_ , son away from me for that long.”

The silence drags on. Jaebum’s staring at the floor now, arms propped on his thighs, hands clasped and fingers working nervously against each other.

He looks disappointed - beyond that, really. He looks devastated, crushed, and Jinyoung feels a coil of guilt snake up his spine.

“I can’t do a month,” he repeats, stretching out his legs - he’s had a few hours to come to terms with his decision. “But I think I can deal with two weeks without him.”

Jaebum freezes - every single part of him going still  in every sense of the word.

A smile tugs at the corner of Jinyoung’s lips, he can’t help it.

Slowly, Jaebum turns towards him. “What?”

“If you would like,” Jinyoung explains. “If it still works, you can take him with you, for a two week vacation.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

Jaebum closes his eyes, and exhales hard. His hands come up to cover his face, but there’s no way that Jinyoung can miss the huge smile on his face. He falls back on the couch, radiating happiness, completely overwhelmed.

Jinyoung gives him a few moments. Then, carefully he ventures. “Will it be possible?”

A small, mean part of him still hopes Jaebum will say no.

Jaebum removes his hand from his face, he exhales again. He looks at Jinyoung, and his expression is clearer now. Completely open, relaxed. A few errant tears on his bottom lashes.

“You tricked me.”

“Only a little,” Jinyoung replies breezily. “Now, will it be possible?”

“Yes,” Jaebum sighs, he’s beaming. Jinyoung wonders when he last saw him _this_ happy. “I bought an extra seat beside me just in case, and there’s a few days still that I can apply for his waiver authorisation.”

He breathes in, full and deep, and then looks at Jinyoung with that large, magnetic smile.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jinyoung says, feeling awkward about it. “I still want him safe and sound back in my arms soon.”

“He will be,” Jaebum promises. He can’t help his noises of joy. “Ah, he’s going to have so much fun.”

“We still need to take care of a few things,” Jinyoung reminds him. They still need to figure out when Yugyeom will be going, what to pack, when he’ll be coming back. “I’ll pay for the surplus tickets. For when you come back to drop him off, or come here to pick him up.”

Jaebum licks his lips, he’s basically at one with the couch now. Liquid happiness.

“I’ll take him to LA,” he says. “He’ll like the sea. And the food. You don’t have to worry about tickets, I’ll take care of it.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Jaebum presses. “Let me do this for you, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung nods, acquiescing. It’s not like he’s rolling in money anyway. “Thank you.”

Jaebum laughs, “Thank _you_ , so much, Jinyoung-ah. You have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

-

Yugyeom’s never been to an airport before. He takes everything in with wide and startled eyes.

He’s in Jinyoung’s hold, as Jaebum steers their luggage towards the check-in desk, head whipping every which way trying to take everything in at once.

“Are you okay?” Jinyoung asks him, bouncing him in his hold to grab his attention.

“Yeah,” the kid says, a little dazed. “It’s very busy, Appa.”

He stares at the attendant like he’s never seen a human woman in his life, and shrieks when the conveyor belt jerks into activity and rolls his mickey-mouse-stickered suitcase away. He’s only had it for two days but he’s already very attached.

“It’s leaving, Daddy,” he panics. “Get it! Before it goes away.”

He’s on the verge of tears. But Jaebum just smooths his hair down.

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” he assures him, smiling. “It’s just going to the airplane. We’ll see it again soon.”

Yugyeom sniffles, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Jaebum says. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

The kid doesn’t look convinced, bottom lip pushed out in a pout, but he concedes. “Okay.”

Jinyoung dreads each step closer to the security line. They get there eventually though.

He carefully places the kid down.

“You remember what I said, right?” he asks him, unnecessarily fussing with his clothes and his backpack.

“You have to be a good boy for your daddy. Enjoy yourself and I’ll see you real soon.”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom says. “I’m a good boy.”

“Will you miss me?”

“Uh huh,” he nods vigorously. “I miss Appa. _Always_.”

“Is that right?” Jinyoung smiles, he pulls him into a big hug. Trying to memorise every inch of him in this very moment. “I love you so much, baby.”

He kisses him all over his face, until Yugyeom is squirming in his hold. They probably need to go, so they can get settled.

To Jaebum he says, “Text me as soon as you land.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, Jaebum,” he stresses. “The second you have signal. I’ll be waiting.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We’ll be alright.”

But how can Jinyoung not worry? When his baby is going to be the furthest away from him he’s ever been.

He steals one last kiss from Yugyeom, and stands there watching, until they disappear from sight.

Jinyoung sleeps fitfully that night. Continually checking the time.

But it’s not until the next morning that he gets a picture message of Yugyeom passed out on an American luggage trolley in front of an empty conveyor belt. A text message comes in a second later. “Landed.”

Throughout the rest of the day, Jinyoung receives messages of pictures and videos in batches. He eagerly opens each one, saves each one, cherishes each one.

As Jinyoung is picking his outfit for tonight, he gets a picture of Yugyeom drinking apple juice from a carton, so small in his airplane seat, and there are remnants of tears clinging to his lashes. (“Turns out he doesn’t like it when planes go super fast,” Jaebum says.)

He runs out of the bathroom mid-shave to open up a picture of Yugyeom on Mark’s lap, face almost smushed to the small cabin window in awe.

In the subway, he gets a beautifully lit photograph of Yugyeom standing in front of the huge windows at the boarding gate, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the airplane parked on the other side.

As the concierge leads him to a tiny table towards the back of the restaurant, Jinyoung’s phone vibrates again.

He asks for a glass of water, barely waiting until the waiter is gone before he pulls out his phone. It’s a video this time, very short. But it’s Yugyeom on Jaebum’s chest, a few moments away from sleep, blinking slowly as Jaebum runs his fingers through his hair.

Jinyoung watches the video again. And then a third time, heart squeezing.

Someone places a hand to his elbow, startling him out of the moment.

There’s a man standing above him, ducked down a little.

“Jinyoung-ssi?”

Jinyoung recognises him after a moment, having only seen his face through a photograph on a phone before.

“Yes,” he stands up. The man is taller than he is, broader too. With ears that stick out beneath his carefully styled hair. “Chanyeol-ssi?”

The other man smiles, and he looks so much more approachable like this. After a moment of deliberation, he ducks in, pecking Jinyoung’s cheek lightly.

Jinyoung looks at him, surprised, but it warms his belly. He gestures for the other to sit.

The other man smiles bashfully. “I’m not late, am I?"

“Not at all,” Jinyoung assures him, placing his phone down. “I’ve just arrived too.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Hyungsik hyung,” Chanyeol tells Jinyoung, somewhat graceful despite his attempts to fit his long limbs beneath the table. “I look forward to getting to know you more tonight.”

Jinyoung smiles, small but sincere. “Likewise.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suji is inspired by my favorite vine: https://vine.co/v/OeInuetWH0Z
> 
> p.s. i lov got7 that's it. that's the post script 
> 
> p.p.s. person who does this, i know you mean well and you're excited, but leaving comments that say nothing but "update please" (especially when it hasn't even been a week since the previous update) will make me less likely to want to update quickly. i'm a pretty busy person, please respect that thank you ^.^ 
> 
> p.p.p.s. jaebum or jaebeom? leave your preferences in the comments!


	7. Home By Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good afternoon friends, this chapter was supposed to be out at the weekend but, if you've been following my twitter, i think you know how messy of a person i am lmao 
> 
> it was weirdly tough finishing this chapter, mind-block hit me like a truck 
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoy it!

I'll remember long drives, sitting in the back

Looking out and endless snow,

Waiting in the silence, if you won't spill your heart,

[I'll chase you for the words you owe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzuCOCZuS_A).

 

-

The apartment is eerily quiet. It always is when Yugyeom’s away, but there’s something about knowing that he’s on the other side of the world that makes the silence almost unbearable.

Jinyoung’s only been awake for a few minutes. But he feels … lonely. A little sad too. He checks his phone, but there are no new messages or pictures from Jaebum. Disappointment pools low in his belly.

There is one message from Chanyeol though. Jinyoung’s thumb hovers over it. He hasn’t opened it yet, but it’s not the first time his eyes have scanned over the preview text. ‘I had so much fun last night,’ Chanyeol says. ‘Can I see you agai…’

Jinyoung bites down on his lip, he should reply, he knows he should, but he’ll wait a little bit more. He sighs, brushing his hair back with his fingers, before he sits up. He’s going to video call Yugyeom, he decides.

It should only be around mid-afternoon in LA, after all. So he ducks into the bathroom, quickly washes his face and brushes his teeth before he slides back into his sheets.

Adjusting his hold on his phone, he peers at himself in the tiny square at the bottom of his screen as the line rings out.

It doesn’t take long to connect, so Jinyoung’s not fully prepared when it does. The screen clears from a deep black to a bright sunny beachside background, and the kid, shirtless, sitting on the lap of his equally shirtless father.

“Hi,” Jaebum greets, he’s squinting against the sun, phone held in his hand.

“Is he wearing sunscreen?” Jinyoung asks immediately. “He’d better be wearing sunscreen.”

Yugyeom’s head jerks up at the sound of Jinyoung’s voice. He has a plastic fork clutched in one chubby hand and a nacho chip in the other. And he can’t find the source of Jinyoung’s voice until Jaebum points it out on the screen.

As soon as he sees Jinyoung, he grins - cheeks bunching up, small teeth glinting.

“Appa,” he screams, giddiness oozing from his voice.

Jinyoung laughs, discreetly turning down the volume on his phone. “Hi, baby. How are you doing?”

“I’m eating now,” Yugyeom answers. He’s wearing tiny red shorts, and a bucket hat with an adjustable string under his chin. They’ve never video-chatted like this, but Yugyeom takes to it so easily. His image blurs as Jaebum tries to position the phone on the glass-table, angling it up so that Jinyoung can see them both.

Once it’s placed down, the kid leans forward - way too close. The screen fills up with the rounded softness of Yugyeom’s cheek and his pink lips. The kid’s hat covers the camera, darkening the screen around him.

Jinyoung is content just to watch him like this, but it’s not more than a moment before Jaebum pulls him back. Yugyeom settles, but his eyes rest firmly on the small pixelated image of Jinyoung across the ocean.

“I’m at the bish,” Yugyeom informs him, prim in English. He puts his fork down with a clutter. A pair of women in neon-bright bikinis and light, floral kaftans stroll past in the background.

Jinyoung’s brows furrow, “Where?”

“The bish,” the kid repeats, furrowing his brow just like Jinyoung.

“The beach,” Jaebum clarifies, in Korean. His voice is disembodied as he reaches beyond the camera. He comes back with a bottle of sunscreen, squeezing out a dollop onto his palm.

Jinyoung laughs, bringing the camera closer to his face. “You’re speaking English now, Gyeom-ah?”

“Yeah,” the kid replies, biting down on smile. “Daddy showed me it.”

“You’re really good at it,” Jinyoung says. He can't help but smile at the difference in their environments right now. He makes himself more comfortable, pulling his duvet around his waist. “Did you see the sea, too?”

“Uh huh,” Yugyeom nods. He looks at the screen intently. “Appa, I wasn’t scared.”  
  
His eyes are wide and sincere (which only tells Jinyoung how scared he actually was).

“I know you weren’t,” Jinyoung indulges him, watching as he digs his tortilla chip into a bowl of lumpy guacamole. Then, he remembers. “Happy Children’s Day, sweetheart. Did you have a good day?”

Yugyeom wiggles in Jaebum’s lap, hating the application of sunscreen, but accepting his fate nevertheless.

“Yeah,” he says, when Jaebum moves on to his back. “I had a good day. Daddy’s gonna give me a present.”

“Is he?” Jinyoung says, voice lilting at the edges. “You must have been a good boy then.”

“I’m always a good boy,” he assures, then he twists around. “Aren’t I, Daddy?”

“The best,” Jaebum tells him, taking the opportunity to swipe the excess sunscreen over the kid’s face.

Yugyeom pushes away his hand immediately, making little sounds of distress with his eyes tightly squeezed shut, he hates anything near his face. There’s a streak of white on his cheek where Jaebum hadn’t managed to rub it in properly.

“Appa,” the kid is saying, flushed and wonky-hatted from dodging his father’s attempts at sun protection, “I’m going to go see the big fish later. What are they called, Daddy?”

Jaebum’s voice is low and patient, like he’s had to say this over and over again.

“Dolphins,” he says in English. “They’re called dolphins.”

The kid’s excitement grows, shoulders bouncing, he chews on his mouthful and then repeats, “Doffin.” To Jinyoung (as if he wasn’t present to hear their conversation) he repeats loudly, “Appa! I’m going to see the doffins.”

Jinyoung has his reservations about their planned activities, because he’s not sure how Jaebum’s going to deal with the meltdown that’s surely incoming when the kid realises he’s stranded on a boat in the middle of the ocean. It’s not an activity he would have picked for them, himself.

Offscreen, someone approaches their table. Jinyoung can only tell because both Jaebum and Yugyeom’s heads move simultaneously to squint at something somewhere to their left.

The person moves round the table, and Jinyoung gets a glimpse of a server in denim shorts and pale yellow polo shirt, brown hair pulled up into a ponytail.

Jaebum’s speaking to her, having smoothly transitioned into English. Yugyeom, watches her with big eyes, tucked in closely to Jaebum’s chest. He’s a confident boy altogether, but Jinyoung’s not surprised he’s acting a little shy.

The waitress has her name tag pinned to her shirt, but Jinyoung’s too slow at reading Western lettering to pick up anything but the letter ‘A’ at the beginning. She’s closer to the phone now, and he can hear that high-toned, fast-paced American lilt to her voice that Jinyoung relates to the dramas Suji likes to watch.

He only catches parts of her sentences.

“-your son?” she’s saying, as if their matching shorts and bucket hats didn’t give it away already.

“Yeah, he is,” Jaebum replies. “Yugyeom say hi.”

The kid obliges, but then immediately hides his face in Jaebum’s chest. She laughs, and Jinyoung can see Yugyeom turning to peek at her.

“Are you having fun?” she asks him.

Yugyeom’s English is a little stilted, mostly shy rather than unskilled. The nursery he’s enrolled in teaches the kids some. It’s a fancy private crèche close to where they live. Jinyoung wouldn’t have minded Yugyeom going to the state nursery, but Jaebum had insisted (and he’s paying) so he isn’t really going to argue.

Yugyeom’s as good as a four year old can be in a foreign language, but he’s not used to displaying it around anyone other than his classmates or his parents.

He peers at the waitress.

“I’m going to see the doffins,” he volunteers.

“Wow,” she enthuses. But then Jinyoung misses the rest of the conversation. Jaebum’s phone drops from where it was propped up. Jinyoung can only see the bright blue LA sky, until Jaebum’s fingers close around the phone, bringing it back up.

By this time, the waitress is gone, and Yugyeom is staring at something that Jinyoung can’t see.

“There are people dancing,” Jaebum explains. He has his finger tucked into Yugyeom’s palm. “Some sort of busking event.”

The kid looks mesmerised. Little mouth propped open, blinking steadily.

It takes a good minute, but when Jinyoung finally tears his eyes from the kid, he finds Jaebum staring straight at him.

Heat falls through Jinyoung’s chest immediately. It’s mostly a heightened awareness of his pyjama-clad self and unbrushed hair; the self-consciousness of himself in front of Jaebum’s tanned, smooth skin and defined abs, (but it’s a little of something else too).

Jaebum’s dark eyes have melted into a golden brown under the sun, eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks.

Jinyoung clears his throat. “Thank you for-, for all the pictures you sent me.”

“Of course,” Jaebum replies, his tone is even and nondescript, but Jinyoung can’t help but feel that there's something a little peculiar about the intensity of his gaze. “I know how much you worry. It’s the least I could do.”

“Right,” Jinyoung says. He brushes his hair back with his fingers once again. Then, uselessly, he repeats, “Thank you.”

Through the screen he can see Yugyeom impatiently slapping Jaebum’s chest.

“Daddy,” he’s whining. “Daddy, I want to go see it.”

“Go with him, Jaebum,” Jinyoung cuts in, before Jaebum answers. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Jaebum laughs, “Okay, I won’t.”

So, sumarily, they turn off the video call.

And although Jinyoung wishes he could have spoken to the kid for a tiny bit longer (even when he’d completely lost interest in Jinyoung in favour of the dancing buskers), he knows he probably shouldn’t encroach on their vacation. He doesn’t want to be the overbearing parent.

He kicks the bottom of his sheets, sliding down until he can flop down on his back on the warm, silk sheets.

It’s odd, he thinks, that he has a whole two week period in which he can just be; not be a parent, or a disgruntled ex, but just _be._

He doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He lays there for a few minutes more, but he has to admit that when he cancels out missing his son and the niggling jealousy that he’s not there to personally see all the new things Yugyeom’s experiencing, it feels really nice to not have to worry about anyone other than himself.

It’ll be short-lived, so he knows he has to make the best of it.

He reaches for his phone, quickly opening his messages.

There, in neatly blocked Hangul, is Chanyeol’s message: ‘I had so much fun last night. Can I see you again soon?’

Jinyoung’s fingers are quick on the keyboard: ‘I enjoyed myself too. Thank you for taking me out. I would really like to see you again, Chanyeol-ssi.’

He tosses his phone, feeling excitement creep up into his belly. It’s been a really long time since he’s done something for himself, purely for himself, Jinyoung thinks.

His phone quacks, loudly. It startles him. Then it does it again.

‘Good, I’m so happy you said that,’’ Chanyeol has replied, with a lovestruck animated sticker. ‘Let’s make plans? How do you feel about bowling?’

‘I’m not very good at bowling,’ Jinyoung admits.

‘Perfect,’ Chanyeol tells him, accompanied by a string of wink-face emojis, ‘I am.’

Right after, Chanyeol texts again. ‘You can call me hyung, you know that?’

‘Okay,’ Jinyoung replies, smiling to himself. ‘Hyung.’

-

It turns out Chanyeol is really competitive.

Like really.

He’s wearing a huge oversized t-shirt, a dark cap pulled over his head and custom-made bowling gloves.

It’s a complete departure from the buttoned up man he first met a couple of days ago, but Jinyoung finds that he likes this casual Chanyeol better.

The bowling alley is quiet, so it feels like they have the whole place to themselves.

“A friend of a friend pulled a few strings,” Chanyeol explains as he diligently waxes his bowling ball. “Anyway, I come here a _lot_.”

Aside from being almost childishly competitive, Chanyeol is also very attentive. He teaches Jinyoung the correct way to hold a bowling ball, teases him gently when he hits a gutter ball (though nothing beats the wearied look on own his face when _he_ starts hitting the gutter too) and is, in general, very big on hugs.

Jinyoung wins the final round, even though both their endscores are miserable ones. They finally step out of their bowling shoes and pad over to the attached café for a light dinner.

Chanyeol is blushing a tiny bit, smiling bashfully in an effort to play it off, but Jinyoung can tell his pride is a little hurt.

“You make me nervous,” Chanyeol says. “I’m normally much better than this.”

Jinyoung laughs, “I’m sure you are.”

His burger is greasy, his bun dry - so he finds himself paying more attention to the man in front of him than his food.

Chanyeol’s been a good distraction. It’s not been quite a week since Yugyeom’s been gone, but it’s almost there. It’s already the most time the kid has ever spent away from him.

Now that Jaebum’s conference and exposition has started, there have been less pictures incoming. But Jinyoung still has a camera-roll full of pictures of his son at Disneyland (including a video of his emotional first meeting with Mickey) and the occasional photo of the kid wearing a tiny pair of noise-cancelling earphones while wandering through the expo.

Jinyoung still misses him dearly, but seeing how much fun he’s having soothes the ache a little.

“What’s his name?” Chanyeol asks, his cap is on backwards now, tufts of soft, dark hair peeking out the front.

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung replies, and he can’t help the smile on his face. “He’s four.”

He ends up showing Chanyeol a selection of the kid’s best and cutest pictures (though Jinyoung is careful to pick a gallery of photos that don’t have Jaebum in the frame).

“He’s really cute,” Chanyeol tells him. They’re leaning over the small table, heads close together.

He smells really good, like the warmth of vanilla highlighted by the freshness of a crisp apple. Jinyoung can’t quite take his eyes away from the long set of his neck, or the shape of his eyes.

“Yes,” Jinyoung murmurs, catching Chanyeol’s gaze. “He takes after me.”

Chanyeol laughs, pulling back to put some distance between them.

“I hope he got your modesty too,” he says. His fingers play with the edge of his paper plate. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Jinyoung’s gaze skitters to his, breath hitching in his throat.

A look of panic crosses Chanyeol’s face.

“Not right now,” he quickly amends. “Or soon, even.”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond. Frankly, the notion of Chanyeol meeting his son hadn’t even crossed his mind. He supposes that’s the luck of the draw for dating parents, isn’t it? Introducing your children to people you hope to spend your life with.

“It’s fine,” Jinyoung says, but even he can tell that the small smile on his face is stiff.

An awkward, silent moment passes. Chanyeol looks sheepish, “I came on too strong, didn’t I?”

Jinyoung presses his lips together, and he nods with a little wince. It’s only their second date, after all.

“A little,” he says, but then he makes a concentrated effort to expel the tension from his body. Chanyeol looks like a reprimanded puppy, and it’s very cute but Jinyoung feels very guilty.

“Don’t worry,” Jinyoung says with a more genuine smile. “I’ll still hold your hand, hyung.”

It’s worth it, he thinks, when Chanyeol smiles back.

Later, Chanyeol drives him home in his monstrosity of a four wheeler. A big car for a big man, Jinyoung thinks, and he feels extra tiny amongst the leather interior of the Mercedes.

When they arrive, Chanyeol insists on walking him to his apartment. Jinyoung’s heart beats double-time from the second they step into the elevator to when they stop outside his door.

He leans back against the wood, gazing up at the other man, expectant.

Chanyeol’s kiss is hesitant and warm. Jinyoung can feel his lips tremble against his, working hard in effort to be restrained.

He captures Jinyoung’s lip in between two of his own, sighing softly as Jinyoung fists his hands in his shirt, pulls him closer until they’re pressed flush together.

It’s a nice kiss, pleasant and slow. And it’s completely different from kisses Jinyoung’s received before; different in particular from how a certain man likes to kiss.

So the way Chanyeol holds Jinyoung, careful hands at his hips like he’s something delicate, instead of strong and sturdy around his face, is novel to him.

Jinyoung’s comfortable in taking the lead in kisses, (because he likes to be kissed a certain way and he isn’t afraid of letting it be known), so he presses the pads of his fingers into Chanyeol’s jaw and pulls him closer, brushes his tongue against his as he kisses the other man deeper.

Jinyoung’s just not used to the other person being so sweet and malleable, so docile in accepting Jinyoung’s directives.

It’s different for Jinyoung. Not necessarily better, or worse. But just … different.

-

Dinner at Ahyeon’s goes something like this: a big pot of cooked rice surrounded by a myriad of side-dishes still in their polystyrene take-away boxes; two glasses of red wine containing far more than the polite amount; Jaebum’s cat, Nora, suspiciously sniffing around her petsitter’s furnishings; and Ahyeon, sitting across the coffee table from Jinyoung, watching him.

The rice is sticky, clinging to his gums.

“What?” he asks, another two minutes into her staring contest. He feels small under the directness of her gaze.

“Nothing,” she replies pleasantly, taking a long sip of her wine. “Just wondering why you’re here.”

Jinyoung pushes his tongue between his teeth. “Am I not allowed to just grab dinner with a friend?”

She taps on her wine glass with a short nail, her chin in the palm of her other hand. “We’re not that kind of friends.”

Jinyoung sighs, “Noona-”

“You know what I mean,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes, but her tone is gentle still. She reaches for her chopsticks.

He gets it, though. They’re the kind of friends who get drunk at noraebangs and take up cooking classes on the weekends even though they’re both lousy cooks, not the kind of friends who have incredibly passionate heart-to-hearts.

She adjusts her seating, uncrossing her legs and stretching them out in front of her. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m good,” Jinyoung replies with a shrug. He replaces his spoon with his glass of wine, sure he’s going to need it tonight. “I miss Yugyeom a lot.”

Ahyeon sucks on the end of her chopsticks, before she places them neatly down. Quietly, she ventures, “And Jaebum too?”

Jinyoung stops, watching his spoonful of doenjang-jiggae soak into his rice. He doesn’t look at her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she says. It almost sounds dismissive, but her voice is high-pitched, baiting.

Jinyoung sighs, he misses the days when their friendship was much less complicated.

“Noona,” he says, glancing up at her, as respectfully as he can. “Please just spit it out.”

She takes a moment, dithering over her words. Ahyeon has always been the kind of person who weighs out each word out before she speaks.

“Do you miss him?” she asks. “Jaebum.”

“There’s nothing to miss,” Jinyoung replies, ignoring how his voice falters at the beginning. “He has his own life, and I have mine.”

“How is he, anyway?” she asks next, changing tactics. She’s holding her wine glass close to her chest.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Jinyoung returns, just shy of exasperated. “You’re his friend.”

Ahyeon presses her lips together for a second, pressing white into her pink pout.

“I think,” she says gently, “that you know him a little better than I ever could, Jinyoung-ah.”

“Evidently, not well enough,” Jinyoung mutters, half-to-himself.

She looks looks at him, a little uncomfortable. She’s never been great at comforting others.

“He still cares about you, you know?”

Jinyoung exhales on a scoff.

Ahyeon bites down on her bottom lip, “I’m not trying to defend what he did.”

Jinyoung’s response is quick, a little too sharp, “Then don’t.”

A beat passes.

“Sorry,” she says, and she looks it too. Carefully, she continues, “It’s really difficult being his friend, while still trying to be yours too.”

Jinyoung swallows, pushing away his bowl. He doesn’t feel all that hungry anymore, “I didn’t ask any of you to take sides.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ahyeon sighs. The look in her eyes is heart-wrenching. “How could we not?”  

Jinyoung doesn’t respond, instead he takes a too-big mouthful of rice, chews on it as he avoids her eyes.

“Jinyoung,” she reiterates. “He did a very stupid, very awful thing, Mark and I don’t stand by what he did, I hope you know that.”

“But you still stood by him,” Jinyoung can’t help but note.

With Ahyeon it was different, since their friendship wasn’t necessarily skin-deep. But with Mark - it felt a little too much like betrayal, even though Jinyoung knows, rationally, that Mark’s been Jaebum’s best friend through thick and thin.

Ahyeon takes a deep breath, her wrists are placed delicately on the low table in front of her. “He didn’t have anyone else.”

Jinyoung scoffs, “He has his parents-”

“Who live all the way back in America, and he rarely sees, not for lack of trying,” Ahyeon points out, her tone is soft. “He has Mark, and he has me. That’s it.”

Jinyoung doesn’t reply, uncomfortable.

Again, she sighs.

“I don’t want to make you feel guilty, because you shouldn’t be at all,” she says to him. “I just want you to understand why we had to be there for him too.”

“Why?” Jinyoung asks, though he has the feeling he already knows.

“You have an amazing support system of friends,” she smiles at him, but it turns sad at the edges. “I know it’s not quite enough to replace the pain your parents put you through, but you have a hyung that loves you so much; Suji, who’d do anything to protect you; Momo, who looks up to you. Jackson who adores you, and Minhyuk too, who values you so much as a person. Outside of Mark and I, Jaebum doesn’t have that.”

Jinyoung presses his lips together. Jaebum has never been great at making friends, everyone knows that - always a little too shy, a little too introverted (even though he liked to pretend otherwise).

“I feel,” Ahyeon continues with a breathless laugh lacking humour, “ _really_ bad for what he did, but,” she frowns, lost in memory, “he looked so lost when he came here that night. Where else could he have gone?”

Jinyoung’s food sits too heavily in his stomach. His words feel too big, too sticky to come out of his throat.

“He had me,” he says. It’s so weak and quiet that Ahyeon almost misses it.

“Yeah,” she replies, equally as quiet. “He did.”

“So why-,” Jinyoung cuts himself off, breathing in harshly. “I just want to understand why he left.”

She looks at him.

“You still love him,” she says eventually. It’s not a question. And it’s not a hesitant assumption.

He doesn’t reply, and her eyes soften.

“I can’t speak for him,” she says. “But from what I’ve seen … resentment and jealousy are insidious things. Sneaking in when you least expect it. It’s bad enough in any situation,” her gaze stays steady on his. “But even more so when it’s somebody you love.” She pauses, taking an even breath, “I don’t think he’s admitted it to himself yet though.”

Jinyoung’s tries to match her gaze, but he cracks under it and looks away.

“What did he have to be resentful for?”

It takes a moment for her to answer.

“You’re a really great parent, Jinyoung,” Ahyeon says, it underfoots him - that’s not what he was expecting her to say. “It was so natural to you, even from the beginning. But-, Jaebum struggled a lot. Yugyeom couldn’t stand being held by him for longer than five minutes,” she laughs a little, “Do you remember that?”

Jinyoung nods absently. He used to tease Jaebum about it, tease him that Yugyeom didn’t like him, that Jinyoung was his favourite parent - but he was obviously joking, of course he was.

Babies are fickle, and Jinyoung’s had a long-standing theory that the kid just didn’t like his father’s cologne. He was always docile and sweet in Jaebum’s arms; in those warm days in the summer when Jaebum had no-one but his family to see and the air was too warm and heavy for anything more substantial than a light moisturiser.

Jaebum struggled a lot with parenting, Jinyoung knows. When Yugyeom was younger, it was always _Jinyoung, Jinyoung, Jinyoung_. It’s funny, now the situation is reversed, and Jinyoung too can find himself relating to those feelings.

“Anyway,” Ahyeon continues. “Jaebum is a man of habit. He likes everything fitting inside neat boxes, likes knowing what’s going to happen and when and _how_. I think he expected parenting to be somewhat unpredictable, but I just don’t think he factored in how much it would affect him, affect your relationship. And-,” she goes on, “Although he brought it on himself, I don’t think he was quite the same after you broke up with him.”

Jinyoung’s gaze skitters to hers, “How did you-”

“Because,” Ahyeon replies, way ahead of him. “He left here intent on making it up to you. And I don’t know what went through with you two that night...”

Jinyoung remembers it, as clear as if it were yesterday. The first time Jaebum came back after he left, and kneeled by their son’s bed.

After, he’d stepped out of the room, unshaven, eyes red and puffy.

He looked big and awkward in the living room they had spent so many years calling home. Right then, it was just a room holding their big comfortable couch, and boxes full of their things.

‘You can leave now,’ Jinyoung had told him, arms wrapped around himself. It had only been a couple of weeks since he’d last seen Jaebum’s face, but he couldn’t help but drink in every last inch of him.

Jaebum approached him on unsteady legs, even as Jinyoung moved back, until his back hit the wall.

He’d kept his gaze focused on the other man, even though his eyes were, by this point, clouded over with tears. Jaebum was much the same.

‘Jinyoung,’ he’d pleaded hoarsely, rough hands coming up to frame Jinyoung’s face. ‘I’m sorry, please-’

Jinyoung had jerked his face away, but he wasn’t prepared for when Jaebum’s weight lifted off of him, and he slid to his knees, looking up at him - supplicating.

Jaebum pushed his face into Jinyoung’s stomach, and Jinyoung could feel the warm breath of his apologies soaking through his thin shirt. His own breath had caught in his throat, tears coming through thick and fast. He had pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, uselessly hoping to silence his cries.

He doesn’t know how long they were there, Jaebum clinging to him, face pushed into his Jinyoung’s shirt, crying, ‘please, I’m sorry,’ and ‘I made a mistake, I’m sorry, I just want you back, baby, please’.

Jinyoung could only see the dark of his hair, and hear his mumbled apologies. He’d almost cracked.

Almost.

His hand hovered over Jaebum’s hair, trembling, wanting to sink into that familiar mode of comfort. But-.

Instead, he strived to find strength. He placed his hands on each of Jaebum’s shoulders, and pushed him away.

He’d stumbled to the side, leaving a wide, gaping space between himself and Jaebum, still kneeling, on the floor.

Jinyoung hadn’t even bothered to wipe the tears on his face, but his voice was unsurprisingly unsteady (catching on itself every once in a while).

‘Your things are already packed,’ he’d told Jaebum, avoiding the broken look in his eyes. ‘Please take them, I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.’

There was a long, deep silence. Jaebum’s voice, when he eventually spoke, was rough and low.

‘Okay,’ he’d said, tears clinging to his lashes. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do whatever you want, Jinyoung.’

“I don’t know,” Ahyeon continues now, her face swims back into focus for Jinyoung. “I don’t know what happened. But he regrets it a lot.”

“It’s in the past,” Jinyoung comments softly, his belly is all up in knots. “There’s nothing we can do about what’s already happened.”

She nods, “That’s true. But he’s doing a lot better now. And-. You’ve both grown up a lot since then.”

Ahyeon leans forward, pushing his wine glass towards him.

“Has he?” he asks her.

“Yes,” she says, gaze flickering up to meet his. “After… _after_ he used to live between his studio and his bedroom, just cycle back and forth endlessly. But when he began to see Yugyeom more regularly, he sorted himself out. Got an apartment, stopped drinking so much, _shaved;_ he even got a cat.”

They both look at Nora, lazily grooming herself. She’s propped up on Ahyeon’s couch, claws digging into the expensive fabric.

“Yeah,” Ahyeon sighs, holding her wineglass to her cheek. “She’s such an asshole.”

Jinyoung snorts a laugh, they’re both a little tipsy by now, his chest warmed by the wine.

She looks at him now, brown kohl pencil smudging past her waterline. “This got deep, huh?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, takes a big gulp of his drink. “It did.”

“Is this why you waited until Jaebum and Mark were out of the country to come see me?” She knows him so well. There’s no heat to her words though, so he merely smiles at her, takes another sip.

“You know,” Ahyeon goes on, “neither of you are very good at hiding the goofy-eyed looks you send each other.”

Jinyoung exhales on a scoff, nearly choking on his wine. He feels hot under his collar.

“There are no _looks_ ,” he denies.

“Oh, there are,” she laughs (she _giggles_ , actually, giddy on wine). “Lots of them too.”

“I’m…” Jinyoung hesitates. “I’m seeing someone, now.”

Ahyeon looks surprised, but Jinyoung soldiers on.

“So I’d appreciate it if you kept things to a minimum.”

A beat passes, and she asks, “Does he know?”

Jinyoung bites down on an instinctive, brash, retort. “He’s not my gatekeeper,” he says instead. “He doesn’t need to know what I do with my life.”

She hums thoughtfully, not entirely convinced by his answer. But then she places down her glass and stands up clumsily.

“Food’s cold,” she announces, gathering their bowls of rice. “Let me reheat this really quick. If we’re fast enough we’ll be able to catch the re-run of The Heirs on SBS.”

“I don’t wanna watch that,” Jinyoung whines, standing up as she heads into the kitchen.

“Why not?” she demands loudly.

“I don’t like Lee Minho.”

 _“What?”_ she squawks from the kitchen. She’s so shocked that she has to storm back into the living room to fully serve him with outrage. “ _How_ can you not like Lee Minho?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs lightly. “I just get the feeling that he would be a really shitty boyfriend.”

-

“He’s so cute,” Jaebum says. He’s peering down at the kid, sleeping soundly on his chest.

His image on the screen is a little pixelated; filtered dark and warm by the sole lamp lit on Jaebum’s bedside table. He’s wearing his glasses again, a sleeveless vest, and his hair is still wet from his shower.

They’ve been speaking for a little while. Yugyeom fell asleep around ten minutes ago, though they haven’t yet hung up.

“Only when he’s asleep,” Jinyoung says, adjusting his face on his pillow.

He’s in bed too, but he woke up a few hours ago - his days have been really listless, without Yugyeom to keep him company.

“Don’t lie,” Jaebum laughs, his voice is low like he doesn’t want to wake up the kid, even though they both know he sleeps like a log. “You always think he’s cute.”

Jinyoung smiles, he can’t even deny it.

“How’s he been?”

Jaebum’s hand runs over the back of Yugyeom’s shirt, slow and steady, over and over again.

“Let’s see,” he starts wryly. “Today, he cried for about three hours straight when I wouldn’t buy him ice-cream, then refused to sit for his time-out. I took him to the park where he chased down every dog he could find, and at dinner he was so excited for pizza that he nearly brained himself on the table.”

“He did _not_ cry for three hours,” Jinyoung balks.

“Yes, he did,” Jaebum informs him, laughing. “He even called me a meanie.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, his chin is getting a little sore propped up on his pillow like this. “This is why you don’t give him ice cream every time he asks, because then he’ll start expecting it.”

“Believe me,” the other man sighs, running his hand over his face. “It’s a lesson learned.”

Jinyoung hums, watching him. “So. You’re having a good time, then?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum replies. “I really am.”

“How come …,” Jinyoung asks. “How come you’re not at home?”

He’s noticed that Jaebum’s been staying in a hotel rather than his parents’ house.

“Oh,” Jaebum says. The light dims in his eyes a little, but he tries to play it off. “It’s-. It’s a little crowded in there right now, all my cousins and their families, you know how it is. I thought I’d just stay in the hotel that the company booked regardless. I’m taking Gyeom out to see them in a couple of days though.”

“It’s the first time they’ll be seeing him since he was a baby, right?”

Jinyoung remembers _that_ particular visit, it was awkward, to say the least. Jaebum’s parents never liked him.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, remembering it himself. “They’re excited to see him though.”

Jinyoung breathes evenly, “I’m glad.”

And he really is. “You should take time to catch up with them too. I’m sure they miss you.”

Jaebum looks surprised at first, and then really touched.

“Thanks,” he says. “I will.”

Jinyoung’s phone pings, a little grey rectangle with rounded corners appearing at the top of his screen. It contains a message from Chanyeol. ‘Pick you up in an hour?” followed by his requisite abundance of emojis.

“I’ve got to go,” he tells Jaebum, with a long sigh. “I need to get ready.”

“Are you going out?”

The question is innocent, pleasant - just a natural progression of their conversation. Jaebum’s not expecting anything from it.

Jinyoung considers telling him who he’s going with and why. He could. Just open his mouth and say: “I have a date with a new guy.”

He wonders what Jaebum’s reaction would be. Would he be indignant? Would he be disappointed? Sad?

It’s weird that he feels like he can’t easily predict Jaebum’s actions as he once used to. Though Jinyoung knows that, above all else, Jaebum would respect his decision no matter what.

“I’m going out,” he decides to say, hoping the silence wasn’t long enough to be awkwardly noticeable. “With a friend.”

“Oh,” Jaebum says, and his expression lightens into an easy smile. “Anyone I know?”

Chanyeol is a producer at SM Entertainment. They don’t run in the same circles, but Jinyoung’s pretty certain they know of each other (even if they don’t know that he knows them both).

“Not personally,” he teases, laughing when Jaebum’s brows jump and the kid jostles on his chest.

“What do you mean by that?” Jaebum is asking, but Jinyoung’s laughing too much. “Hey!”

“Goodbye, Jaebum,” Jinyoung replies, pretending not to hear him.

“Park Jinyoung!”

“Goodnight!”

Jinyoung doesn’t mean to hang-up in his face, he swears he doesn’t. He flops over on his back, and he doesn’t move for a solid seven minutes (that is, until he remembers that he has someone waiting for him and he dashes into the bathroom).

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [eye emoji]
> 
> p.s. i know a lot of people will probably ask me, but it seems like i'll probably be extending the fic, three chapters is probs not going to be enough to finalise it (don't quote me on that tho)
> 
> p.p.s whoever threw that phone at youngjae, i know u didn't mean it, but turn on your location
> 
> p.p.p.s. we hit five thousand views!!! thank you so much, you guys. i value your every word and insight (even though y'all hate jaebum lmao) but seriously, i can't thank you enough ♡
> 
> BONUS: I almost forgot. My friend Miki did an absolutely adoooooorable artwork T.T if you want to cry like I did, please check out her profile and leave her a like ♡ https://twitter.com/monikirogers


	8. Too Good at Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo 
> 
> so being sick is not fun. glad i got over that quick haha

But every time you hurt me, the less that I cry

And every time you leave me, the quicker these tears dry

[And every time you walk out, the less I love you.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_ub7Etch2U)

_

 

Incheon is always busy. Jinyoung doesn’t like it. It always feels claustrophobic, somehow - this giant, sprawling building with thousands of bodies keeping it bustling.

Today, there’s a gaggle of young girls lining behind the temporary barricades that security has erected. They’re clutching their phones, gripping tight at identical banners proclaiming the name of some young idol group that Jinyoung’s never heard of, and waving clear lightsticks with bright green bulbs in the centre.

It looks like a misshapen boat, Jinyoung thinks, or the twitter bird (though without the wings).

Annoyingly, it seems like one of the members shares a name with him. So his head keeps unwittingly jerking towards the crowd everytime he hears ‘Jinyoung! Jinyoung oppa!’.

He shuffles closer to the east edge of the greeting lobby, wanting to move his tired legs - he’s been waiting at the airport for far longer than necessary. But he can’t help it; the excitement of seeing his son again, after a long few weeks, brings with it an inexplicable sense of relief and inner calm.

Their flight has arrived. It says so on the huge board in front of him, digital lettering flashing a pale, dull yellow.

Jinyoung’s already getting antsy, but the anticipation is worth it when a crowd of people spill out of the automatic doors nearest to the internal terminals.

The volume in the lobby increases sevenfold, the young fans to Jinyoung’s left all moving en-masse to crowd around the group of idols with their cool denim jeans and dark masks. But the volume is secondary to Jinyoung, especially when Jaebum’s face appears from a myriad of others from inside the airport.

He’s pushing a trolley, with Yugyeom’s stickered Mickey Mouse suitcase and a plain small carry-on on top of it.

The kid is beside him, little legs working fast to match the slow pace of the trolley, fingers curled tight around one of the thick metal poles of it. His other hand is pressed tight against his ear, and his brows are furrowed - offended - at the sheer level of noise in the space.

He hasn’t seen Jinyoung yet, but Jaebum has. And the man smiles at him, so light and private that Jinyoung can’t help but return it.

Jaebum slows the cart to a stop, leaning down to whisper in the kid’s ear.

A quick word and a finger-point later, Yugyeom’s bright eyes catch on his father’s, and his entire countenance brightens - from the curve of his smile to the tips of his fingers as he waves.

He takes off immediately, backpack bouncing against his back - dashing forward and between the other people in an effort to get as close to Jinyoung as he can, as fast as he can.

Jinyoung instinctively matches his movements, half-worried that the kid will hurt himself in his hurry, but they find each other in the middle - and Jinyoung doesn’t hesitate to drop to his knees, pulling Yugyeom into his embrace.

Eyes closed, Jinyoung holds him tight, breathes him in. He sighs, “I missed you.”

Yugyeom laughs, fingers curled into Jinyoung’s jacket, “Appa, I missed you too.”

“Did you?” Jinyoung asks, matching his sweet tone. He pulls back, smoothing the front of Yugyeom’s hair with the palm of his hand. “Let me look at you.”

The kid’s cheeks are flushed, and his skin a little darker from the LA sunshine. He looks healthy, and happy, and so damn cute that Jinyoung’s heart squeezes. He’s put on some weight, might have even grown a little taller too.

Jaebum reaches them then, looming tall over them. Having disposed of the trolley, he rolls the kid’s suitcase by his side, and holds his carry-on in his other hand.

He refuses to let Jinyoung take either one from him, so instead Jinyoung takes the kid, holding him tight until they get to the car.

Yugyeom is docile; smiling sweetly as Jinyoung buckles him in, catching his eye with a grin through the rearview mirror every once in a while as Jinyoung drives and Jaebum gazes out of the window.

When they get to Jaebum’s apartment, the kid is quick to throw his things on the floor and dash into the darkened hallway towards the bathroom.  

Jinyoung sighs, picking up after him before heading into the living room after Jaebum.

“What time is your flight?” he asks him, as Jaebum flicks the lights on.

He rubs his palm all over his face, light stubble darkening his jaw.

“Early,” he says. “Too early.”

Jinyoung nods absently, rocking lightly on his feet as he takes in Jaebum’s living room. It’s the first time he’s been in here, only previously having caught a glimpse of it through the hallway.

The air conditioner has kicked into gear in the corner with a flick of a button on a small remote control, agitating the light layer of dust that had settled on the surfaces in Jaebum’s absence.

Yugyeom wanders back from the living room.

“Appa,” he trills as he trundles towards him, flicking water droplets from wet hands. “I’m done.”

Jinyoung gently tugs on his ear. “Haven’t I told you to dry your hands before you leave the bathroom?”

The kid looks up with a guilty grin, but he still attempts to wrap his wet hands around Jinyoung’s jeans.

“No,” Jinyoung warns, and taps the kid’s cheek with one finger. “Go dry your hands.”

Yugyeom sighs, put-upon, but he swivels on his striped socks and heads back to do as he’s told.

On the big corner couch, Jaebum has already unzipped his carry-on, taking out its contents.

From the centre he pulls a large, clear Tupperware box with its distinctive blue piping.

He glances up at Jinyoung as he sits down heavily, pushing the suitcase away some.

“This is for you,” he says, mouth catching on a shy smile.

“For me?” Jinyoung repeats, finding himself wandering closer in curiosity. He sits beside Jaebum, close enough to feel the heat from his body as he pops open the sides of the plastic box.

Inside there’s another box, wrapped prettily with a silk cloth and a thick knot at the top. Jaebum unravels it quickly, revealing another smaller Tupperware container.

When he opens it, Jinyoung has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from gasping.

There, lined neatly, are four rows of round, smooth-topped chapssaltteok. They alternate colours; dusky white, pale pink, mint green, and soft yellow, squeezed together with a dusting of powdered sugar on top.

Yugyeom chooses that moment to crash into Jinyoung’s leg. Jinyoung wraps an arm around his back to steady him.

“Look,” the kid exclaims, pointing with one chubby finger as if Jinyoung had been able to tear his eyes from the feast of sweet treats anyway. “Halmeoni made it.”

Jinyoung looks at Yugyeom’s bright, open expression. And then words sink in. He snaps his gaze towards Jaebum.

“Halmeoni?”

“Yes,” Jaebum says awkwardly, he smiles weakly at Jinyoung.

Yugyeom tugs impatiently at the sleeve of Jinyoung’s jacket, mouth fashioned into a tight pout.

“Appa,” he whines, lips turned downwards. “Daddy wouldn’t let me have one.”

“That’s because you’ve already had your share, Yugyeom-ah,” Jaebum cuts in. He keeps his voice light, but there’s tension to the set of his mouth - Jinyoung’s got the feeling that this is an ongoing argument. “This is for Appa. Halmeoni made it for him.”

Yugyeom opens his mouth to argue, but Jinyoung acts swiftly, hushing him with fingers placed carefully over his mouth.

“Your mom gave this to me?” he addresses to Jaebum, sitting next to him and trying to take as little amount of space as possible, the container in his lap. “Why?” Jinyoung continues, “Doesn’t she-”

He cuts himself off, hyper aware of the kid squirming at his side. Wouldn’t do well to have little ears hear that his grandmother hates his father, after all.

Jaebum’s face softens though, and he seems to pick up the words Jinyoung’s left unsaid.

“No,” he says. And then he seems to think it over, “I-, I mean-. No. She doesn’t.” He catches Jinyoung’s eye, holds it even when it turns a little uncomfortable.

Yugyeom mouths uselessly as Jinyoung’s fingers, but stays otherwise quiet.

“I think,” Jaebum starts carefully, glancing down at the kid’s antics before he turns his gaze back to Jinyoung. “She feels sorry, for the way she treated you. Before.”

It’s not that she, or Jaebum’s dad for that matter, treated him a _certain_ way. But there was a coldness in that visit, a distance measured out by suspicious, furtive looks and a stilted conversation with clipped off syllables.

Jinyoung hadn’t spoken much. Jaebum’s parents hadn’t spoken much. Yugyeom had slept through most of the encounter, belly full and content in baby leisure. So, the burden had mostly fallen on Jaebum’s shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Jinyoung offers, because really, what else is he supposed to say?

“It’s not okay,” Jaebum replies, sincere eyes on his. “Their frustrations were with me. They would have-. They would have acted like that with anyone, any _guy_ , I’d brought to them. It wasn’t personal, and it wasn’t your fault - but it’s not fair to you. They’re sorry, though,” he tells him. “She did this all herself, you know? I didn’t ask her to do it. We were on the patio with my dad, and he asked what you liked to eat - and she made this. For you.”

Jinyoung presses his lips together. “Why?”

“Because,” Jaebum dithers. “Because she’d like to make it up to you. Because people change. They do stupid things,” he takes a big breath, “and then they grow from it and try to be better people.”

Carefully, Jinyoung disentangles his fingers from his son’s mouth. He reaches forward, delicately takes one soft rice cake between his fingers and pulls it apart, the sweet red bean filling threatening to spill.

Yugyeom’s practically a champion heavy breather beside him, eyes locked on the treat. He takes it quickly and eagerly when Jinyoung offer him a piece.

“Eat it slowly,” Jinyoung warns, but the kid is not even looking at him when he nods in response. Jinyoung rips the remaining half in two. “It didn’t melt.”

Jaebum’s eyes widen a little when Jinyoung offers him a piece too.

“I took it out,” he says, fingers brushing against Jinyoung’s. “In the cabin. To keep it cool.”

Jinyoung nods absently, eager to eat.

The rice cake basically falls apart on his tongue, dissolving quickly into flavour and sweetness. He only takes a small bite, but it sticks to the inside of his mouth, tacky and delicate all at the same time.

Satisfaction spreads through him. He hasn’t had anything this good in a while, especially not home-made chapssaltteok.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung says, because he loves this. At Jaebum’s quirked eyebrows, he clarifies, “For remembering.”

Jaebum’s face clears, revealing a small, pleased smile.

“Good?” he asks him through a mouthful. He’d eaten his portion in one big bite, of course.

Jinyoung hums, unable to stop a mirrored smile flickering over his mouth as he takes another bite, revelling in goodness.

Beside him, Yugyeom pipes up, eyes on the remains of the cake in his hands. “It’s really yummy, Daddy.”

Jaebum wasn’t talking to him, but he laughs anyway, reaching forward to ruffle his hair.

-

They end up staying for dinner. Seoul is in the throes of the evening rush, and they’d just be stuck in traffic - crawling along the highway.

So instead they order noodles and eat around Jaebum’s kitchen table. Yugyeom gets jjajangmyeon sauce all over his face and the collar of his shirt, then he waddles over to Jaebum’s couch and promptly passes out.

Jinyoung sighs upon seeing him, heading back into the kitchen to grab a paper towel. He moistens it under the sink tap, Jaebum shuffling out of the way as he pauses washing the dishes.

Carefully, Jinyoung wipes around the kid’s sticky fingers, and the remnant sauce from around his mouth. When he’s done, he scrunches the paper up, and places it in a heavy glass tray that decorates Jaebum’s coffee table.

He strokes the soft baby hair at Yugyeom’s temples, his round cheeks, his tiny rounded chin.

“You should stay,” Jaebum says from behind him. He’s standing at the threshold between the hallway and the living room, wiping his hands on a tea towel decorated with wildflowers. Jinyoung didn’t hear him come in, wonders how long he’s been standing there.

“It’s late,” Jaebum continues, eyes on Jinyoung as he stands too. “And traffic’s awful. You should stay here.”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “I’ll go home, it’s not too far.”

“It’s going to take you at least an hour to get home, you know that,” Jaebum presses. “You can-. I’d like to see Gyeom before I leave tomorrow. To say goodbye properly.”

Jinyoung just looks at him. Jaebum’s trying hard to appear casual, but he knows him too well not to note how tightly he’s gripping the tea towel in his hands, and the line of tension running over his shoulders.

“Where would I even stay?” Jinyoung asks with a laugh. “There are only two bedrooms, and I doubt I’ll even fit in Yugyeom’s bed.”

“You can stay in mine.”

Jinyoung pauses, catching his eye. “With you?”

Jaebum wets his lips.

“With Yugyeom too, if you’d like. Just like in Gapyeong.” He exhales on a laugh too, but unlike Jinyoung’s, it’s wobbly, uncertain. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before, right?”

“Right,” Jinyoung agrees, watching the way relief lightens Jaebum’s expression with a knot in his stomach. “But I can’t, Jaebum.”

“Jinyoung-”

“I’m seeing someone.”

There, Jinyoung thinks. It’s out. Blurted like a dirty secret.

His stomach twists, but he forces himself to keep his gaze on Jaebum’s expression; watches how it tenses in surprise, curdles in something too close to anger to be just disappointment, and then smooths out into carefully rendered blankness.

Jinyoung isn’t typically someone who feels compelled to fill in empty spaces in conversations. He’s not usually so bothered by awkward silences that his mouth runs on.

But this time, there’s something about the way that Jaebum holds himself that he can’t help but give in. He feels like he needs to keep talking - anything to alleviate the burning heat of his cheeks and tips of his ears, and the prickle in the back of his neck.

“It’s recent,” Jinyoung is saying. “And casual still, but I shouldn’t-, we shouldn’t… not stay in the same bed.” Then, uselessly, he adds, “I’m sorry.”

Jaebum clears his throat, snapping out of his trance.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he tells him, voice tense from trying to force casualness. Moving further in to the room, he ducks past Jinyoung to grab the discarded paper towel for something to do.

He squeezes it in his palm. They’re standing close enough for Jinyoung to be able to make out the individual pricks of hair that make up the other man’s stubble, but still Jaebum keeps his gaze fixed on the object in his hand.

“Is he good to you?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung murmurs, although he doesn’t know Chanyeol that well yet. “So far.”

Jaebum bites down on his lip. Then he gets that look on his face, so familiar to Jinyoung, where he’s riling himself up to ask a difficult question.

“Who is he?” he asks after a painfully long moment. He lifts his eyes to Jinyoung. “Do I know him?”

“Yes, it’s Jackson,” Jinyoung jokes, trying to lighten the mood. But then he grows serious when Jaebum’s jaw ticks, the muscle set. “Park Chanyeol. He’s a producer. At SM. I don’t know if you know him-”

“I do,” Jaebum interrupts. “I know him.”  

They lapse into an awkward silence yet again. Jinyoung doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Jaebum takes a deep breath, and then he repeats, “I know him.”

“Well?”

“Not really,” Jaebum admits. “But I hear he’s a nice guy. Your type.”

Jinyoung runs his gaze over Jaebum’s face; his smile is brittle, “No, he isn’t.”

Jaebum doesn’t reply, instead he clears his throat again, runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Take my bed,” he tells Jinyoung, though he’s not really looking at him. “You and Gyeom can sleep there. I’ll take the couch.”

“Jaebum-,” Jinyoung starts, but it’s already too late - Jaebum has turned his back, and three strides later, he disappears back into the darkness of the hallway.

-

If there’s one thing Jinyoung hates, it’s running late.

Worse still, is when others are running late.

He’s going on a date with Chanyeol tonight, the days and weeks having solidified their relationship into something more solid now, more tangible.

Chanyeol’s already on his way. But the problem is two-fold. Jaebum is running late (though he had the decency to let Jinyoung know with a phone call), and Yugyeom refuses to move from his spot - hypnotised by the TV - long enough to get ready.

He’s been in a foul mood all day. Which, of course, has rebounded off of Jinyoung too. But he has neither the patience nor the time to deal with the kid’s spoiledness today.

Jinyoung storms in to the living room from his bedroom in his too-tight ripped jeans and barely-buttoned shirt. He switches off the TV and Yugyeom immediately starts whining, sticking out his legs in frustration.

“No, Appa!” he gripes, loud. “It’s not finished yet. I’m watching it!”

Jinyoung tucks in his shirt into his waistband. “I’ve told you over and over again to turn it off. TV time is done, Yugyeom, Daddy’s coming to pick you up so you need to go get your things.”

“I don’t want to,” Yugyeom decides, folding his arms over his chest, he frowns deeply at Jinyoung. “I’m stay here.”

“By yourself?” Jinyoung retorts, looking frantically around the living room. He has no idea where his phone is, and he needs to call Chanyeol.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom huffs. “I’ll stay by myself and watch TV all I want.”

“You’d better hope the ghosts don’t come out then,” Jinyoung replies, his eyes land on a little glint of hard plastic hidden beneath a pile of letters on the kitchen counter. “Naughty boys taste the yummiest.”

“You’re lying,” Yugyeom balks, his eyes are wide, chin tucked down to his chest. “The ghosts are all gone. You said so the other time. You’re just being a meanie.”

Jinyoung retrieves his phone. He does feel a little bit bad hearing the undercurrent of fear in the kid’s voice.

He watches him, so small tucked into the corner of the couch. Jinyoung feels really tired all of a sudden.

“Go wash up, Gyeom-ah,” he says. “Appa’s not going to tell you again. Your dad is going to be here soon, and I have somewhere to go.”

It’s his own fault really. It took his far longer to finish his work today than it should have done, and he’d delayed getting ready for his date because he’d figured he’d have peace and quiet after Jaebum left with the kid. He didn’t count on him being late, because Jaebum is _never_ late.

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung warns, matching the ire in the kid’s eye even as he dials Chanyeol’s number and brings the phone to his ear.

The kid huffs and looks away, he’s being difficult for difficulty’s sake. Jinyoung knows this - but it doesn’t make it less annoying.

“I expect you to listen to me when I tell you things,” he says, infinitely ticked off. “And I expect you to do them.”

There’s a pause. And then, from the other end of the line: “I always do what you tell me to,” Chanyeol teases, light and flirtatious.

Jinyoung frowns, confused.

“What?” he says, then he checks his phone. He hadn’t even realised the line had connected.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Chanyeol laughs. It sounds loud where he is, like he’s outside. But his voice crackles over the line, warm and familiar.

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I was talking to Yugyeom.”

Chanyeol hums, “He hasn’t left yet?”

“No,” Jinyoung says absently. He narrows his eyes at Yugyeom, locked in a stand-off. “His dad’s running late.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. “That’s not really considerate of him,” he pauses. “That’s kind of shitty, actually. You have places to be, he should know that by now”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung agrees awkwardly, his chest feels tight. “He didn’t really mean to be late though. He’s not usually like this. Work must have ran over or something.”

Chanyeol doesn’t reply, breathing steadily through the phone.

“Are you on the subway?” Jinyoung asks him next, when it’s clear Chanyeol won’t be saying anything. He walks forward to take Yugyeom by the wrist (despite the kid’s protests) and drag him to his bedroom even as he whines and complains.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol continues. Then, he amends, “Well, I just got to my station, I’m not on the subway yet. But it shouldn’t take me long to get to yours. Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?”

“That’s actually what I was calling about, hyung,” Jinyoung says, huffing a final breath as he deposits the kid by his bed. He closes the door, and then moves on to find a pair of Yugyeom’s socks in the drawer. “I hate doing this, but can you wait a bit? Before you get here?”

On the other side of the line Chanyeol sighs, almost familiar in its disappointment.

“Jinyoung-ah,” he starts, and Jinyoung can just about hear the bustle of noise behind him. “I’m already at the station.”

Jinyoung places a ball of Yugyeom’s socks on the bed, then he grabs a cleaner shirt to replace his juice-stained one and lays it out too. He ruffles Yugyeom’s hair, ignoring the taciturn pout on his lips, and moves back to speak more privately.

“I know,” he says, after too long a silence. “But Gyeom’s still here. And his dad’ll be by soon too.”

“Right,” Chanyeol replies, there’s an edge to his voice that he tries to mask. “Can’t have me anywhere near them, I forgot.”

“Hyung,” Jinyoung warns, because this a frequently, if not exhaustively, rehashed conversation. Chanyeol’s met all of Jinyoung’s friends, but he’s still eager to meet the one little person who takes up the most space in Jinyoung’s heart. It’s understandable, but Jinyoung’s just not ready for the implications of that yet. “Don’t start.”

There’s a hurried knock on the front door. So Jinyoung tears his eyes from where the kid petulantly and tearfully dresses himself, and goes to open it.

“Do you,” Chanyeol says, from down the line. “Do you not want me to meet him?”

Jaebum’s on the other side of the door when Jinyoung opens it, keys clutched in his hand, eyes a little bloodshot.

He half greets Jinyoung, on autopilot, before his brain seemingly kicks in and he realises just exactly what Jinyoung’s wearing. Jaebum’s eyes drift down before they rake back up the length of Jinyoung’s body, taking in the tight jeans over his thighs and his thin dress shirt opened at the collar.

Jaebum’s eyes, already a heady dark brown, are unreadable when they connect with Jinyoung’s.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asks, soft.

Jinyoung feels like squirming, like running back to his room and changing into the comfortable attire (his Boring Dad Clothes, as Minhyuk once put it) he’s more used to wearing. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Chanyeol parrots on the phone, his voice is tiny through the device but still loud enough to be heard in the silent space between Jinyoung and Jaebum. “Sweetheart-”

Jinyoung’s eyes snap to Jaebum’s just fast enough to see them sharpen, like glass. He looks away quickly, and turns around to rush into the living room as a solid, kind of embarrassed heat churns in his belly, not minding whether Jaebum’s following him.

“Hyung, can you please wait just a little while longer?” Jinyoung says to Chanyeol, interrupting a sentence he wasn’t even listening to. He can hear Chanyeol’s sigh, edged with annoyance - but he knows he won’t voice it. “I’ll call you in a little while, okay?”

He waits until Chanyeol hums his assent through the phone, frustrated but agreeable, and then hangs up.

Jinyoung can feel Jaebum staring at him from behind.

And when he slowly turns to meet him, he finds that he can’t make out the look in Jaebum’s eye. It’s guarded. Jinyoung’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get used to being locked out of the way Jaebum feels, what he’s thinking.

The mottled heat his cheeks sting, and he feels self-conscious.

“What?” he asks, flat.

“Nothing,” Jaebum replies. He sighs deeply, rubbing the palm of his hand over his stubble. “Where’s Yugyeom?”

“In his room,” Jinyoung tells him. “He’s not in a very good mood today.”

Jaebum nods, then he jerks his head back towards the hall. “Can I go get him?”

Jinyoung presses his lips together, unsettled by the sudden awkwardness.

“Sure,” he says. “Of course.”

Jaebum turns to leave, and then he hesitates - glancing back at Jinyoung.

He smiles faintly, but it looks all wrong on his face. “You look nice, Jinyoung-ah.”

Jaebum leaves the room before Jinyoung even has a chance to respond, or to properly process it. A few moments later, he reappears with the kid and his weekend bag over his shoulder.

Jinyoung waves them off (even as Yugyeom remains petulant and refuses a kiss) and closes the door behind them. He texts Chanyeol, and then he sits on his couch, trying to make sense of the consternation in his stomach.

Try as he might, Jinyoung can’t seem to shake the weird mood that’s fallen over him. He feels guilty for not being able to make up with Yugyeom before he left for his father’s. And he can’t stop thinking about Jaebum, or the look on his face.

Jinyoung’s distracted all throughout his date, giving non-committal answers and being generally disengaged from the atmosphere. He feels bad about it, of course he does, especially because Chanyeol is trying so hard to not let the mood sour. But he can’t snap out it. He can’t stop thinking about Yugyeom, and he can’t stop thinking about Jaebum.

-

“That looks disgusting,” Chanyeol remarks. He’s peering over Jinyoung shoulder, a few days later, at the package of dried squid in his hands.

It’s Sunday afternoon, and it’s raining. They’re at Home Plus, stocking up on Jinyoung’s weekly shop before Chanyeol drops him off at his apartment.

“No, it doesn’t,” Jinyoung replies automatically. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know enough to know that that’s not going in my mouth,” Chanyeol informs him.

Jinyoung glances at him from the corner of his eye.

“You have no taste.”

“I have plenty,” Chanyeol fires back, playfully offended. He knocks his shoulder into Jinyoung’s and his smile is lopsided, the hidden dimple in his cheek showing.

“You don’t come out of your studio long enough to have developed a taste beyond energy drinks and 3AM McDonalds runs,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Can you go get me the dried lentils, please? They’re in the next aisle.”

“I’m not eating that either,” Chanyeol grumbles, pushing his lips into a pout.

“It’s not for you, genius,” Jinyoung snorts. “It’s for the four year old I have at home who’s, shockingly, a better eater than you are.”

Chanyeol clutches a hand to his chest, “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jinyoung complains, but Chanyeol’s not even listening anymore, already taken gargantuan strides towards the next aisle.

Later, Chanyeol parks his car outside of Jinyoung’s apartment - close to the front door.

“I’m sorry,” he’s saying, apologetic that he can’t stick around to help Jinyoung carry the groceries upstairs."

The rain has slowed down to a barely-there drizzle, and Jinyoung’s only a few metres away from the lobby anyway.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” he assures him, popping open the car door. He takes his bags from the back, and ducks round to Chanyeol’s side to give him a kiss on the cheek before walking inside.

There’s nobody in the lobby, and the elevator is empty too when he gets in, so he places his bags on the floor with a sigh, and leans back against the mirrored back wall.

His phone is in his back pocket. When he pulls it out, it lights up with a notification from Wonpil.

 _Are you going to Mark hyung’s party next week?_ he asks. _Can you please bring Chanyeol? I want to introduce him to Jae._

Jinyoung smiles, typing out a quick response before the lift reaches his floor.

 _Yes_ , he tells his friend. _I will. Now, stop using me for connections, you scrounger._

He puts his phone away before he has the chance to read Wonpil’s incoming response. His floor is getting close, so he leans down to gather the straps of the grocery bags around his wrists.

Truth be told, Jinyoung’s really looking forward to this party. It’s been a while since he has been to one that hasn’t been fifty-five people from his college days, crammed into Minhyuk and Hyunwoo’s tiny apartment, drinking cheap soju and trying not to catapult off of their balcony.

This party is going to be special. Held in Mark and Ahyeon’s fancy apartment, it’ll have fancy wine and even fancier guests.

Jinyoung has a feeling that there’ll be a special announcement made there too. Mark and Ahyeon have both been suspiciously bright-eyed these past few weeks.

And Yugyeom will also be going, though Jaebum will be taking him. But he’ll be able to play with some friends his own age for once. He’ll meet Chanyeol too, finally, and without the added pressure of introducing him as Appa’s special friend. Which takes a huge weight off of Jinyoung’s chest.

The elevator dings, heavy doors sliding open to his floor. Jinyoung’s bags are heavy, even though he’d tried to evenly distribute the multiple packs of Yugyeom’s favourite choco-milk. It’s an awkward manoeuvre to grab his door keys from his back pocket.

He slows down, finally clutching them in his palm. Annoyingly, there are two people crowded in front of his apartment door, ducked close in together in dark clothes. A big golf-style umbrella. with its huge white logo lost in the folds on the side, is propped against his door.

There’s a continuous drip of rainwater from the tip of it cascading onto Jinyoung’s doormat. Annoying.

“Excuse me,” he says to the back of the person closest to him as he approaches, an ahjussi with grey hairs just starting to weave into the glossy black. “Would I be able to get past?”

The ahjussi turns, startled by Jinyoung’s voice. He looms over Jinyoung, tall with an impeccable posture and dark, almond shaped eyes just like his.

Jinyoung’s mouth runs dry, throat tightening up. His heart stops for a full few seconds, and then it beats so fast it feels like it’s ricocheting off of his chest bone.

Because he recognises him, and the woman just peeking about beyond him, instantly. Of course he does. Even though it’s been years and years since he last saw their faces, or heard their voices.

Jinyoung’s bags weigh down on his wrists, awkwardly pulling down the sleeves of his pullover hoodie. But Jinyoung doesn’t bother fixing it. Robbed clean of breath, his eyes wander over to the small woman standing just in front of his front door; thick, dark hair clipped back at the sides with wide plastic barrettes.

His eyes move back to the man in front of him. They make awkward, uncomfortable eye-contact.

“Jinyoung,” his father says, finally. “You’re here.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert eye emoji] 
> 
> p.s. i know i haven't gotten to everyone's comments yet, i'm really slow (but i really do want to reply) but just know that i'll get to you ... eventually ;) 
> 
> p.p.s. someone asked if i have a curious cat. i don't - but i'd be more than happy to have one if you guys would be up for that? lemme know ^.^


	9. What If

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bonus update ^.^

When I see you, so beautiful that it’s sad

I don’t hate him, I don’t hate him

[Because he makes you smile like an angel.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uetgk7WTe5c)

-

Jinyoung hands are trembling. He knocks the ceramic mugs against each other as he places them in the wooden tray that he usually sets out for visitors.

Carefully, he transports the tea, peppermint and honey, and the mugs to his living room, depositing them on the coffee table. He can feel the eyes of his parents boring into him from where they sit on the couch, savouring him up like they’re starved.

But he keeps his head bowed, eyes averted.

He pours their tea carefully, remembers to add one teaspoon of sugar to his father’s, and then he retreats back into the kitchen; methodically unpacking and putting away his groceries.

The rustle of bags is embarrassingly loud, but at the same time, Jinyoung is hyper aware of the noiselessness of his apartment. Overall it just feels awkward, strange. Debilitating.

It’s not until he’s putting away the kid’s favourite type of ice cream - a strawberry popsicle hybrid with rainbow sprinkles - that he remembers he’s supposed to be picking him up soon.

He shoots a text to Jaebum. _I won’t be able to make pick up this week. Sorry, something came up. Can you keep Yugyeom with you for a while longer? Or maybe overnight, if you’d prefer._

When that’s done and his groceries are all away, Jinyoung’s palms start to sweat. There’s nothing else for it now, he’s just delaying the inevitable.

He sits on an armchair, opposite his parents. Places his phone down delicately on the coffee table and sits stiff, fingers picking at each other on his lap.

The silence is deafening. But just when his father opens his mouth to speak, Jinyoung’s phone starts to vibrate. A split second later, the ringtone blasts; Jaebum’s name emblazoned on the front.

Without even meaning to, Jinyoung’s eyes dart to his parents out of deference.

“You can answer it,” his father says, voice gruffer than he means.

So Jinyoung does. He picks up quickly, and doesn’t even have the chance to say hello before Jaebum’s frantic voice comes down the line.

“Tell me everything’s okay,” he starts, exasperated. The kid is crying in the background - long warbling cries that seem never ending.

“Everything’s okay,” Jinyoung answers, brows furrowing. He stands, and with a quick glance at his parents, he walks into the hall for a little more privacy. “Why is he crying?”

“He thinks you’ve left him,” Jaebum answers quickly, dismissive. Jinyoung can imagine the eye-roll that came with that sentence, but he has barely enough time to process what Jaebum’s said before the man is moving on. “What came up to interfere with pick up?”

Jinyoung dithers over to tell him or not.

“My parents are here,” Jinyoung he settles on replying. He can hear the way Jaebum’s breath stops short.

His voice is softer when he next speaks, gentler. “Jinyoung.”

“I know.”

“Do you need me to come over?”

“I can handle it.”

“I know,” Jaebum assures him. “But do you want me to?”

Jinyoung hesitates. And he hates that he hesitates.

“No,” he eventually settles on. “I’m okay, thank you. Can I speak to Yugyeom?”

Jaebum hums, there’s a clack at the other end of the line and then the kid’s cries are more immediate, louder.

“Appa,” he wails down the phone, voice trembling. “How come-. How come you left me?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, takes a deep breath. His kid is so dramatic.

“I’ll be picking you up a little bit later,” Jinyoung explains, patient. “You don’t have to cry.”

Yugyeom sniffs noisily, then resumes his wailing.

“You left me forever,” he accuses between sobs. “Is it because I was naughty?”

It brings a smile to Jinyoung’s face, and he has to try hard not to laugh. His kid _is_ self-aware, after all.

“I haven't left you. Do you promise to behave from now on, then? Be Appa’s good boy?”

Yugyeom’s breath catches between words. “Uh huh,” he promises. “I’ll be a good boy. But you have to promise never to leave me.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung replies, warm. “I can do that. Appa will come pick you up soon. I just have to do something first, but I’ll be there. I promise.”

“Okay,” the kid agrees, cries quietening down to miserable sniffs. “Appa?”

“Yeah?”

His voice is thick, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jinyoung tells him, heart aching. “More than anything in this world. Be good for your daddy.”

The kid must hand the phone over to Jaebum, because his voice filters through the line next.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

“I’m sure,” Jinyoung replies. “But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jaebum says. “I’m always here if you need me, Jinyoung.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung says, and he finds that he believes him.

-

Trepidation pours back into Jinyoung with every step he takes back into the living room. His spine is stiff when he sits in front of his parents again.

After another long moment of silence, Jinyoung bites down on his lip.

“Did something happen?” he asks them. “I don’t really understand why you’re here.”

His parents glance at each other, silent conversation heavy on their gazes. Jinyoung feels like he’s looking back in time, but at the same time, his heart aches with all the years he was not able to see his parents age.

“Nothing happened,” his mother says, her voice is softer than he remembers. It’s not frail, not old - just filled with a deep-set sadness. “We wanted to see you. We miss you, Jinyoung.”

He can’t help but scoff. It’s automatic, bursting out of his mouth before he could ever stop it.

His mother looks hurt, though Jinyoung finds it hard to muster enough sympathy beyond casual human decency. It’s harsh, but it’s true. She’s hurt. But it doesn’t compare to what she’s, what they _both,_ put him through over the years - all the self-doubt, the hatred.

“You kicked me out,” he says, fingers gripped tight against his phone. “How can you turn up here after all this time, and say _‘I missed you’._ How is that fair?”

“Jinyoung,” his father warns, trying to keep the peace. He’s always been a stickler for tradition, and deference; for politesse and old-fashioned values. “Don’t speak to your mother like that.”

Jinyoung swallows heavily. “I haven’t had a mother in a long time.”

He wonders, as he did all these years, what they told people when they asked after their elusive third child. Did they say he was abroad? Did they tell them the truth, that they turned their back on him? Or did they never even mention him at all, a dirty secret to be hidden?

His father looks shocked, and Jinyoung is both surprised and not at his reaction. He’s always been a little bit detached from the faults in his family, a little too quick to turn a blind eye.

Jinyoung knows he doesn’t mean to come across as if this is all just a big misunderstanding, and that Jinyoung’s just being difficult, but he also gets the feeling his father has offset his own fault in this situation.

“Jinyoung,” his father says now. “We-”

“I’m sorry,” his mother blurts out, cheeks red. She clutches at material of her smart trousers.

Shock reverberates right down to Jinyoung’s core.

His mother’s always been forthright; brash when she needed to be, blunt when she wanted to. But always unapologetic. Jinyoung can’t remember the last time she apologised, much less to him.

He stares at her, mirroring his father.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I can’t ever take back what I did. But-.” She swallows, glancing up at Jinyoung. Her sentence never finishes, though, and she just looks at him. He’s never known her to be without words either.

Jinyoung bites down on his trembling lip. Takes a deep, uneven breath to calm his nerves - though it’s ineffective.

“When my son was born,” he says instead, eyes glancing around the myriad of pictures of the kid in the living room, focuses on the portrait of him sitting on a low stool, hands on his knees with a big smile the day he first went to nursery. A mere two hours before one of Yugyeom’s most spectacular meltdowns.

“I held him in my arms the first time,” Jinyoung continues, remembering his red, wrinkly face - how he cried and cried; and Jaebum couldn’t stop kissing them both. “I promised him I would do anything to protect him. That I would love him always, despite everything. No matter what.”

His mother’s face is averted, but his father’s eyes are wide and serious.

Jinyoung takes a deep, wobbly breath. “How could you leave me like that? How can I trust you ever again?”

“Jinyoung,” His father clears his throat. He looks sadder now, lines forming deep grooves in his face. “I can’t change what I did. But whatever it is that I can do to make it up to you. I will,” he glances at Jinyoung’s mother. “We both will. If you’ll let us. If you can forgive us.”

Jinyoung deflates, can’t help but feel a little bit disappointed. After all this, the burden is still on him - to listen, to understand, to forgive.

Back when he was still a scared twenty year old, barely holding down his first proper job and the apartment he shared with Hyunwoo, they and Suji used to sit in the tiny living room and drink cheap beer they’d bought at the university campus store.

Hyunwoo had sighed, almost drunk. ‘Our parents make mistakes so we can learn from them.’

‘No,’ Suji had disagreed, hair up in a messy ponytail, legs thrown over Hyunwoo’s thighs. ‘That’s not fair to us. We all make mistakes. But we learn. We have to. So that we can be better.’

Jinyoung wonders what she would say now, if she were here. Probably that people should be better just to be better. Not to make it so that those they’ve hurt can forgive them. She'd probably just scream the house down, actually. 

But Jinyoung’s never been as ballsy as she is, try as he might.

So he nods slowly, head full of cotton.

“Okay,” he says to his parents, heart beating so fast. His fingers curl into the bottom of his shirt. “I’ll listen.”

-

Mark and Ahyeon’s party is loud.

Jinyoung can hear it as soon as the elevator gets close enough to the floor, louder and louder as the digits on the elevator monitor tick over.

When the elevator opens, they step out. Chanyeol is beside him, almost buzzing with excitement, as he holds the expensive bottle of champagne they’d brought with them as a gift.

He has his arm around Jinyoung’s waist, periodically asks him, ‘Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?’

He’s sweet, but Jinyoung doesn’t feel like talking or explaining.  

It’s packed inside. And it’s no more than a few seconds before Jinyoung’s engulfed in a hug. He laughs, giving Brian a quick squeeze back, but the other man’s already moving on - having caught sight of someone on the other side of the room.

Jinyoung takes Chanyeol by the hand, weaving them through to the living room. Yugyeom is perched on Mark’s knees, where he’s talking close to Jaebum.

“Appa!” the kid screeches, the second his eyes land on Jinyoung. He catapults himself off of Mark’s knee and dashes towards him.

Jinyoung kneels to catch him with a grunt, smiling despite himself. He hugs him tight, then pulls back to look at him.

“You look so handsome,” he tells him, chuckling at Yugyeom’s pleased smile. He’s wearing pressed shorts and dress shoes, a plain button-down and the cutest, tiniest silk bow-tie Jinyoung’s ever seen.

“Daddy dressed me,” he informs Jinyoung, biting at his upper lip.

“I know,” Jinyoung smiles, and then he pulls him closer. “Come here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Yugyeom watches Chanyeol with big eyes as he introduces himself (‘Hi Yugyeom. My name is Chanyeol. I’ve heard so much about you!”) and sticks close to Jinyoung’s side.

“You’re really tall,” Yugyeom says, after a long moment.

Chanyeol laughs, loud and full-bodied like he always does, and Yugyeom looks … a little bewildered, honestly. But also intrigued.

A shadow falls over Jinyoung, still kneeled down to Yugyeom’s height, and he looks up to see that Mark and Jaebum have approached them.

Jinyoung stands as Chanyeol hands over the bottle of wine with a quick pat on the back.

“You shouldn’t have,” Mark says, but it’s out of politeness. Jinyoung knows he and Ahyeon love that brand of wine.

“It was Jinyoung’s idea,” Chanyeol laughs. “I’m just the messenger.”

Mark playfully narrows his eyes at him, “You’re not here to steal JYP secrets for SM are you?”

Chanyeol smiles, “I’d definitely bring more alcohol if that was the case.”

He turns to Jaebum, and Jinyoung swears that the air turns a little cooler. They regard each other quietly, but they shake hands - firm, rigid.

“Daddy,” Yugyeom trills, oblivious as always. “This is Appa’s friend. Isn’t he Appa?”

Four sets of eyes focus on Jinyoung.

“Yes,” he chokes out. “He’s Appa’s friend.”

They disperse soon after that, Jaebum and Mark heading in one direction, Yugyeom in another.

Jinyoung doesn’t see much of Jaebum in the next hour or so, if he’s honest. He carts Chanyeol around, introducing him to this person and the next.

Chanyeol’s a social butterfly, so he soaks it all up - always ready with a smile on his face. He shakes hands eagerly, laughs heartily at jokes, takes business cards with enthusiasm.

For Jinyoung, it’s a much more draining affair. Especially considering he a) knows everyone here and b) dislikes most of them.

He perches on the a chair that’s against a wall, near a couch. Chanyeol’s chatting up some music exec over by the balcony, hands gesticulating wildly.

Yugyeom is playing with Ahyeon’s goddaughter, tucked into a corner.

Someone slumps into the seat next to Jinyoung, smiling at him.

“Haven’t seen you around these parts in a while.”

“Taejoon hyung,” Jinyoung smiles back, turning towards him more fully. “How are you?”

“Good,” he grins, gums showing. “Suji is on her way with drinks.”

“You’re not helping her?”

“She shooed me away before I could,” he sighs, loosening his tie. “Don’t you think I tried?”

Jinyoung laughs, “She’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

“I heard that,” Suji gripes. She approaches them, holding three flutes of sparkling champagne each decorated with a cored strawberry. “Mind this doesn’t end up all over you.”

She hands them each a flute before she sits on the arm of the sofa, she adjusts her dress and then settles more fully between Taejoon and Jinyoung; Taejoon’s arm behind her.

“How’s the single life?” Jinyoung asks her, taking a sip of wine. It’s crisp and light on his tongue, bubbles dissolving into nothing. She’d dropped off the dead weight of actor-ssi a few weeks back. Avoided any social gatherings with Minhyuk and Hyunwoo too, but Jinyoung doesn’t mention that.

Suji takes a long sip of her champagne too, pink lipstick transferring to the rim.

She holds the glass delicately, pretending to think. Then she hums, smiling, “Liberating.”

Taejoon nods sagely, chants, “Hear! Hear!” and pushes forward to clink their glasses together.

-

Yugyeom falls asleep around about ten. So Jinyoung tucks him into Mark and Ahyeon’s bed, before he returns to the party.

Suji and Taejoon are gone from their spot, when Jinyoung emerges but he heads back to it. He’s getting tired now, having seen so many people already. He’d lost track of Chanyeol about half an hour back, and had a long conversation with Momo about an hour ago, before Minhyuk appeared and whisked her away.

Hyunwoo is still locked in conversation with Ahyeon’s manager and a few other people, frowning each time Suji breezes past and pretends not to notice him.

Jinyoung takes it all in, all the conversations around him.

His eyes flit over to the other side of the room, and his heart twists.

Jaebum’s with Youngjae, heads ducked close together as Jaebum laughs.

He must feel Jinyoung’s gaze on him, because he looks up, catches his eye almost immediately.

Youngjae’s a little slow on the uptake, but when he realises Jaebum’s is distracted,  he follows the length of his gaze.

Jinyoung can’t tell what the look on his face means, whether it’s just plain awkwardness, or something else too.

But he doesn’t stick around to find out. He stands quickly, rushes back into Mark and Ahyeon’s bedroom, fussing with the sheets tucked around Yugyeom just for something to do.

Because there, quiet but not hesitant, are Jaebum’s footsteps. He’d followed him here.

Jinyoung smooths out the sheets. Then, he stands and goes to leave.

Jaebum stops him with a hand placed carefully over his stomach. There’s no force behind it, no real way of impeding Jinyoung from leaving. But he doesn’t.

He looks up into Jaebum’s face.

“Are you okay?” Jaebum asks him.

Jinyoung hates the sincerity in his voice, the worriedness marking his expression.

“Fine,” he replies, breezy. “I’m fine.”

Jaebum’s hand hasn’t left his side, it sinks into Jinyoung’s skin like a brand.

“You know,” Jaebum says next, struggling to find his words. “You know there’s nothing going on between me and Youngjae, right?”

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung sighs, stepping back, the other man’s hand falling to his side. “It’s none of my business.”

“But I want to tell you,” Jaebum insists. His lips press together, like there’s embarrassment coiling in his gut. “He’s-. The only person I slept with. Since you. And when you found out … then-. Then we stopped. He’s just a friend.”

Jinyoung’s surprised. Mostly taken aback too (and he is reluctant to address the curl of relief that tightens his belly).

“I don’t want to know,” he says, swallowing heavily.

Jaebum nods. “Sorry,” he tells Jinyoung. “I made you uncomfortable.”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond, he doesn’t really know what to say without lying.

“How are you doing?” Jaebum continues, gentle eyes on him. “With your family-”

“Fine,” Jinyoung interrupts, a little too harshly. He sends him an uneasy smile. “Everything went fine.”

Jaebum watches him carefully, critically.

His voice, when he finally speaks, is soft. “The truth, Jinyoung.”

There’s something about that way he says that, so careful, so tender. It floods through Jinyoung, brings up a wave of tears that he’s quick to repress.

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung admits quietly. “I feel like I’m barely holding on.”   
  
Jaebum’s hand twitches at his side. “Because of your parents? Did they say something to you?”

“No,” Jinyoung is quick to deny. Then he sighs, “No. They-.” He remembers Jaebum’s words, “They wanted to make it up to me, I guess.”

“But?”

Jinyoung touches his tongue to the corner of his mouth.

“But,” he repeats. “You said, before, when you came back from LA. You said that people make mistakes, and then they learn from it and become better people.”

“Yes.”

“What if,” Jinyoung continues, wet eyes darting up to Jaebum, mouth trembling. “What if I’m not ready to forgive them? Yet?”

Jaebum’s face crumples, and he doesn’t hesitate to put out a hand, pulling Jinyoung to him, into him, engulfing him in his arms.

Jinyoung relaxes immediately, hands coming up to grip at the back of Jaebum’s shirt, eyes closing. He takes deep, even breaths of that familiar, warm scent.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Jaebum murmurs into his hair, hand smoothing over it.

It’s been such a long time since Jinyoung’s been taken care of like this, so he can’t help but melt into Jaebum, wanting to be impossibly closer.

Jaebum cards his fingers through his hair. “You’ve waited so many years for them. They can wait however long you need.”

“Thank you,” Jinyoung mumbles into his shoulder. “Hyung.”

They stay like that, holding each other, until Jinyoung hears a scant sound from the door.

He opens his eyes, heart doubling down on a jolt when they meet Chanyeol’s dark gaze.

But only for a second, because then Chanyeol’s taking a step back out of the room, turning back into the hallway.

Jinyoung calls out his name, immediately disentangling himself from Jaebum as he runs after him.

The living room is quiet when he stumbles in.

Mark and Ahyeon are by their big windows, Seoul’s glittering night behind them. Their arms are around each other, flutes in each hand as Mark speaks; a speech of some kind.

A few people turn away from the happy couple, glancing back to where Jinyoung has stopped dead in his tracks.

He catches Suji’s worried eyes, from where she’s standing beside Taejoon, but he doesn’t linger on it - the front door has just snapped closed.

Jinyoung throws himself out of the door and down the stairs - it’s not that many flights, admittedly, but he’s still winded by the time he makes it to the lobby.

He can see Chanyeol up ahead, just outside. They’d parked a little way away, thankfully.

So he runs after him.

“Hyung,” he yells, as soon as he’s out of the doors, but Chanyeol doesn’t turn around, doesn’t make an indication that he’d heard.

Jinyoung sprints forward, grabbing Chanyeol’s arm - tugging at it until the other man turns.

Chanyeol snatches his arm back from Jinyoung's hold, but he stands still, evaluating him.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung says, helplessly. He’s never seen Chanyeol’s face this serious, this closed off. He swallows. “Nothing happened.”

Chanyeol laughs, but there’s no humour in his eyes, no warmth.

“Do you think that’s what I want to hear? That nothing happened between my boyfriend and his ex in a dark room at a party?” His face sobers. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“What else am I supposed to say?” Jinyoung asks, the breeze licks up, rifling through his hair. “How else am I supposed to explain, hyung?”

“I don’t want you to explain,” Chanyeol says, voice rising, booming out across the empty parking lot. He bites down on lip, regulates his volume, repeats, “I don’t want you to explain. I want to be able to trust you to be in a room with your ex, and not worry about anything happening.”

“You can trust that.”

“No,” Chanyeol refutes, shaking his head. “No, I can’t. Not as long you’re still so hung up on that guy.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

They stare at each other. Chanyeol clutches his car keys, breathing deep.

“This is why you didn’t want me to meet your kid, right?”

Jinyoung’s lips part. “Don’t bring my son into this.”

Chanyeol pauses. Then he nods.

“I’m sorry,” he says. But then he extends a hand towards him, palm facing up. “We can talk about this tomorrow. Let’s go home.”

Jinyoung hesitates. Long enough for Chanyeol’s hand to falter between them, before finally falling away.

“I’m staying with Yugyeom,” Jinyoung says, awkwardly. His heartbeat is uneven. “For my friends too. They’re-”

“I get it,” Chanyeol interrupts. He takes a few loud breaths, eyes flickering over Jinyoung’s shoulders and then back to his face.

He approaches him, hands framing his face, soft still - despite the discontent simmering between them. Chanyeol kisses him long and hard, tucking in close to him.

Then, he turns and leaves.

Jinyoung watches him until he climbs into his car, reversing back from the parking lot into the main road. He stands there for a few more seconds, arms wrapped around himself, head full of white noise, until hears a voice from beside him.

“Will you come inside?”

Warm and hesitant, Jaebum.

Jinyoung turns to look at him, hair whipping on to his forehead. “How long have you been standing there?”

Jaebum looks uncomfortable. He doesn’t answer, but he extends a hand. “Come, Jinyoung.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tah-dah!
> 
> i worked rlly hard for this chapter, hope you guys enjoyed! 
> 
> p.s. thank you for all your kind comments ily :( 
> 
> p.p.s. ppl who r seeing got7 in the flesh r so lucky and im so happy for you all, pls tell jinyoung i love him and i want to fight


	10. Back to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise bitch 
> 
> bet you thought you'd seen the last of me 
> 
> yes - this is a triple update in less than four days, don't i spoil you guys ??? this is probably the first and last time i do this so enjoy it while you can lol! 
> 
> (peep the new rating friends)

I will be fine, I’m going to try,

Don’t worry my baby, I promise you

[I’m praying to the moon for our love.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TC9uXfshhGY)

-

“We should break up,” Jinyoung says to Chanyeol, soft and shy with awkwardness. They’re in a café, untouched to-go cups placed in front of them.

Chanyeol’s slumped in his chair, long legs spilling out of the side, staring blankly out of the window. He has one hand on his lap, the other curled loosely around the plastic base of his iced americano.

His jaw is set. But there isn’t any anger in his face. Only tiredness, disappointment and, if Jinyoung looks really closely, the tell-tale sign of someone who was expecting this.

Chanyeol sighs, long and deep.

“Okay,” he agrees.

Then he doesn’t say anything more.

The silence eats away at Jinyoung’s stomach, and he brings his warmed cup closer, smelling the raspberry and cinnamon tea. But it makes him feel sick - uneasy.

It’s very early on a Sunday morning. This little café is empty save for the two of them and the noisy cashier in the back room.

Jinyoung bites his lip, “Is that it?”

Chanyeol scoffs, and then a wave of anger passes over his features.

“What,” he bites off, voice tone harsher than any he’s ever used with Jinyoung before. “Did you expect me to cry and grovel over you? Is that what you wanted? Did you-”

“Hyung,” Jinyoung interrupts, hurt. Chanyeol’s cuts a glance at him, and although Jinyoung braced himself for it, the anguish and the hurt in the other man’s eyes stop his breath short. “That’s not what I-. That’s not what I want. I’m sorry.”

Chanyeol’s fingers tighten on his coffee and, for a split second, Jinyoung braces himself, sure that its contents are going to end up all over him.

But Chanyeol’s fingers loosen, and his hand trails over the table to fall into his lap. He closes his eyes, tips his head back and exhales, deep and long.

Jinyoung fidgets in his seat, heart beating hard, head bowed.

“You know,” Chanyeol says after a long, painful silence. His eyes are open now, but fixed on nothing in particular. “I really care about you, Jinyoung. And I’m not the kind of person to trap you in a relationship you clearly don’t care about.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I care about you, hyung,” Jinyoung insists, persevering despite Chanyeol’s soft snort of disbelief. “I really do. I just can’t be in a relationship with you. I’m just-”

“In love with another man?” Chanyeol interrupts, catching Jinyoung off-guard, his gaze is intense and direct. “That’s what it is, right?”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond, he doesn’t know _how_ to. His mouth is dry, throat parched. It should be so easy to just say ‘no’, just say ‘you’ve got it all wrong’ - but he can’t verbalise it, his tongue feels heavy and damning in his mouth.

Chanyeol stands up with a long scrape of his chair. He picks up his americano. With one last glance at Jinyoung, he turns, dumping the coffee in the trash-bin just before the doors and then he leaves.

Through the window, Jinyoung sees Chanyeol look both ways. He crosses the street and then he disappears into the crowd.

-

The next few days crawl by slowly. Jinyoung’s heart aches. He feels terrible. But he also feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest (that’s where the guilt arises, from the relief).

His friends all know by now. He’s already had the prerequisite ‘happy singledom’ shots with Suji one night at his apartment while Yugyeom slept.

Jackson periodically sends him funny internet videos, Minhyuk fusses over him like an ahjumma, and Mark sends him a perfunctory ‘We’re here for you’ followed by a grinning emoji.

Jinyoung’s not entirely certain that’s the feeling he meant to convey, but it makes him laugh and he sends back his thanks.

Yugyeom’s tower of coloured blocks topples over onto his playmat.

“Appa,” he complains, pouting, on his knees with a block in each hand. “You’re not looking.”

He stumbles over the pronunciation, but Jinyoung’s well-versed in Gyeom-speech by now.

“I’m sorry,” he says to him. “I’m not feeling the best today.”

This pulls Yugyeom up short. His father, not feeling his best? Unthinkable!

He puts his blocks down, watches Jinyoung warily. “How come?”

Jinyoung presses his lips together, dithering over how to explain it.

“Appa’s a little heartsick, baby,” he settles on saying. “I’m sorry I’m not playing with you well.”

“Appa is sick?” he asks, one little brow quirked. Then, determined, “What kind of medicine do you need, Appa?”

Jinyoung hums, smiling as he reaches over to thumb over the freckle underneath Yugyeom’s eye.

“The only medicine I need,” he tells him, “is lots of kisses and hugs from my favourite person in the world.”

Yugyeom smiles, tumbling into Jinyoung’s lap, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck. “I can do that.”

-

Try as he might though, Jinyoung can’t quite shift the heavy, dull weight in his stomach. He sits on it, ruminates on it - until it swells so big it threatens to take his breath away.

So he drops Yugyeom with Minhyuk and Hyunwoo, stays just long enough to see the kid climb all over Hyunwoo to settle over his shoulders as Minhyuk watches them with soft, loving eyes.

Then, he kisses him goodbye, says, “I’ll be by to pick you up later, okay?”

And he goes home, turns the shower on to just shy of scalding.

He stands under the stream for a long time, trying to breathe even amongst the steam. He washes himself with soap, douches himself, takes more soap and lathes it over his body.

After he’s dressed and his hair is dry, he climbs into his car and sinks into driving, hands turning the wheel almost automatically.

He parks in front of Jaebum’s building, shares the elevator with a teenager with too many piercings, and ends up outside Jaebum’s apartment in a moment that’s both too fast, and long overdue.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum says when he opens the door, barefoot, with his wireless headphones around his neck and a soft, dark t-shirt. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Are you alone?” Jinyoung asks instead, eyes steady.

“Yeah,” Jaebum looks confused, but he nods, gesturing over his shoulder. “Yeah, I was just in the studio.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” the other man replies, brows still furrowed, but he moves back.

Jinyoung steps forward as Jaebum closes the door behind him. He slips off his shoes, stacks them neatly on the rack. Then he takes off his light jacket and hangs it up too, placing his keys in the side pocket.

Beside him, Jaebum’s watching him with big eyes, worried.

They’re standing close together already, the hyeongwan isn’t that big, but Jinyoung steps closer still - his own scent mixing in with Jaebum’s familiar warmth in the tiny space between them.

He wraps his arms around Jaebum’s neck, chests flush against each other, and tilts his head, pressing a firm kiss to Jaebum’s slack-soft mouth.

Jaebum is surprised, lips parting on a quiet exhale, but it only takes a second for him to kiss back; chest expanding, arms coming up to grip at Jinyoung, keeping him close.

There’s barely a few inches of difference between their heights, but Jinyoung presses up on the balls of his socked feet - striving for those scant centimetres that pushes him taller. He moves forward until he has Jaebum pressed tight against the door.

Jaebum grunts; a tiny, sighing thing - and Jinyoung captures his lips, his heat, between his. Over and over again.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum murmurs, the pads of his fingers digging into Jinyoung’s sides. “Jinyoung, wait.”

He tilts his head back, just a little bit, breaking the kiss. Their mouths are only millimeters away. Jinyoung can still make out the moisture on Jaebum’s lips, the warmth of his breath.

Jaebum watches him with hooded eyes, chest heaving.

“Are you,” he says, breathing heavily, fingers twitching where they hold him. “Are you doing this because of Chanyeol?”

Jinyoung scoffs, light. Though most of his attention is still on Jaebum’s lips. “Do you really think I would kiss you if I still had a boyfriend?”

Jaebum takes hold of his chin, tilting his head up so their eyes connect. “That’s not what I asked.”

Jinyoung licks his lips, slow, seductive; watches the way that Jaebum follows the movement.

“I’m doing this because I miss you,” Jinyoung tells him, voice hushed even though they’re alone in the apartment. “And because I want you. That’s all. You know me better than that.”

They’re so close that their lips brush with every word, sharing the warm heat between them. Jaebum’s arms move to wrap tight around Jinyoung’s waist. “I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore.”

Jinyoung doesn’t know how to answer that, doesn’t know how to encompass the big, overwhelming feeling of ‘you’re the only one who’s ever known me well enough’ into words. So he doesn’t.

He kisses him again, instead, presses close, licks over the seam of his lips. Wrapping his fists around Jaebum’s t-shirt, Jinyoung pulls back, bringing the other man with him. Their eyes catch on each other.

“Take me to bed,” Jinyoung whispers.

They stumble into Jaebum’s room like that, wrapped around each other. Jaebum tries to guide them both towards the bed as Jinyoung presses hot, incessant kisses over his neck, prickly stubble numbing his lips.

They fall heavily onto it. And Jinyoung’s quick to clamber over Jaebum’s lap, getting rid of Jaebum’s headphones before his fingers sneak underneath his shirt, lifting up to reveal his smooth, taut abdomen.

He pushes Jaebum back flat with impatient hands, comforts a whine falling from his lips with a kiss, before he travels down, trailing wet kisses over his skin.

His mouth works sloppy and fast, casting warmth over Jaebum’s throat, his chest, over his nipples, and his trembling stomach.

Jinyoung shuffles back, fingers curling into the elasticated band of Jaebum’s grey sweats, getting a good grip on it before pulling it down over his hips, over his thighs.

Jaebum sits back up, muscles tensing beneath his skin, and pulls Jinyoung towards him with a firm grip on his upper arm. Jinyoung goes easily, fingers sinking in to Jaebum’s hair, the buzz of his fresh undercut teasing the pads of his fingers. His thumbs dig into the joints of Jaebum’s jaw, feeling the movement there as Jinyoung kisses him.

But despite being the one in control, Jinyoung’s the noisiest out of the two. He’s the one taking kisses from Jaebum’s mouth, but he can’t help the helpless, needy whimpers falling from his mouth, the soft sighs, the deep groans.

He tightens his fingers in Jaebum’s hair, circling his hips in tight, deep grinds over his lap. He’s half hard already, and he can feel the lazy swell of Jaebum beneath his boxers.

Jinyoung chafes against the inside of his jeans, it doesn’t feel great, but he’s almost desperate by now; no finesse, no plan, just a need to get off.

Jaebum bucks up, hands holding Jinyoung securely against his lower back. Using his strength, he lifts them up quickly and turns them around. Jinyoung loses his centre of balance, scrambling to take hold of the other man’s shoulders.

His back hits the bed with a rush of anticipation bubbling up his spine. Jaebum hovers above him, a self-satisfied grin on his face; their bed is the one place he never easily yielded.

His hands are warm when they sneak up beneath Jinyoung’s shirt. He’s on wide-spread knees, the heavy outline of him pressing against the thin material of his boxers.

Jaebum slides Jinyoung’s shirt off, tosses it behind him, somewhere, and then his hands are back to mapping the contours of Jinyoung’s stomach, pressing in against the soft give of his waist, the plumpness beneath his belly button, the soft skin of his sides.

Jinyoung sighs as Jaebum explores him; warm, rough palms running over his hips, his chest, over his shoulders and the entire length of his arms until they grip firmly at the delicate bones of his wrist.

Jinyoung’s eyes flutter open, gaze roaming over Jaebum’s bright eyes, folding into mischief as his upper lip thins out in a smile.

Jinyoung bucks up, trying to kiss him, but he can’t reach. Tries to lift his hips to grind up, but finds that Jaebum’s too heavy on top of him. His cheeks are warm, and he pulses hotly and uselessly.

Eyebrows furrowing, his mouth fixes into an angry sort of pout.

“Jaebum,” he warns, despite his disadvantage, squirming against the other man’s hold.

Jaebum sucks in a breath through his teeth, head tilting as he looks playfully away (he’s not sly about the smile that catches on his lips).

Jinyoung frowns at him, frustrated.

“Hyung,” he tries again, almost breathless with want. “Jaebum hyung, won’t you kiss me? Won’t you touch me?”

Heat pours into Jaebum’s eyes, his fingers tighten against Jinyoung’s wrists, pulse flowing like a current between them.

Jaebum’s voice is steady, but there’s a tremor lurking just beneath it.

“I’m touching you,” he says. “I’m touching you, baby.”

But Jinyoung’s already shaking his head, he can barely think with the thick cloud of need surrounding him.

“More. I want more.”

Jaebum curses under his breath, moving back to flip Jinyoung on to his front, settling over him.  

Jaebum’s a much more patient person than Jinyoung is.

He undresses him slowly, taking off his jeans, his socks, and then - finally, he slides Jinyoung’s briefs off of him as Jinyoung’s hips tilt up.

His hands trace the shape of Jinyoung’s back, and then his mouth follows: quiet kisses presses reverently over Jinyoung’s spine, Jaebum’s crotch pressed tight against his bare ass, the heat from his cock diffused through the cotton.

“Hurry up,” Jinyoung demands, but his eyes flutter shut as Jaebum carefully bites down on his skin.

His plea goes unheeded. Jaebum takes his time, like he’s always done; he kisses Jinyoung’s skin, savours it, until Jinyoung’s wound up tight in frustration.

Eventually, his hand drifts down, over the curve of Jinyoung’s ass, squeezing it in his hands, and then it retreats. Jaebum reaches over to his bedside table, and Jinyoung watches silently as he pulls out a drawer, rummages around inside.

The bottle of lube he brings out is barely used, but the pink plastic label on the front is already curling over. His expression is concentrated, serious and mature, as he warms the lube between his fingers.

He opens Jinyoung up slowly, methodically, with long and smooth strokes; one finger, then two, and all the way up to three.

Jinyoung’s heart beats hard and slow, his forehead is buried in the bed, eyes shut tight, fingers curled tight around a fistful of sheets, and teeth sunken hard into his bottom lip.

He rolls his hips back into Jaebum’s fingers. Doing it automatically, body chasing after the liquid heat of Jaebum’s fingers inside him. For as long as he can stand it, he holds his breath.

The air shifts, and then Jaebum’s closer still, lying over Jinyoung’s back. Jinyoung chokes back a moan, can’t help the way he instinctively tightens around Jaebum.

There’s not much space between them, and the air is too hot, too thick. Jaebum’s breath fans over his ear, he’s a little breathless too.

“You can enjoy this,” he tells Jinyoung, bending to press a kiss to the sharp relief of his shoulder beneath him. His voice is warm, just as desperate as the look in his eyes. “I want you to enjoy it, baby. I want to hear you.”

He turns Jinyoung again, spreading him out on his back before he ducks in for a kiss, licking into the heat of Jinyoung’s mouth firmly, fingers digging into Jinyoung’s soft thighs.

And he pulls back, once he’s had his fill, leaving Jinyoung’s mouth tingling, his eyes hooded. Jaebum reaches for a condom, but his lube-slick fingers struggle to open the packet.

So Jinyoung takes it from him, tearing it open before placing it on. His cock is so hot in his hand as he smooths the latex down; a thick, darker shaft with a wide, pink head.

Leaning up on an elbow, Jinyoung strokes him, thumb pressed to the underside in just the way Jaebum likes it.

The other man licks his lips, hands twitching at his sides until he can’t take anymore and bats Jinyoung’s hands away.

He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, chest expanding rapidly. But then he refocuses, and grips Jinyoung’s thighs.

“Tilt your hips, Young-ah,” he says, rough and low, guiding him. His hair is matted on the side, sweat gathering at his temples.

Jinyoung hides his face in Jaebum’s neck, even as the other man hovers over him; one arm planted near his head as he guides himself, opening Jinyoung up with heavy heat of his length.

Jaebum sinking into him is so familiar it aches. He fucks him slowly, breath caught between his teeth; coarse pubic hair tucked close against Jinyoung’s. His hand wraps around Jinyoung’s cock, stroking him as he pulls all the way back, and fucks into him deep.

But Jinyoung is stiff underneath him, so overwhelmed with the rush of happiness that floods into him that he can’t process it, thighs twitching around Jaebum’s hips.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, squeezes his eyes tight so he doesn’t embarrass himself by whimpering, or worse, blurting out those three familiar little words that have been sitting heavy in his heart for years.

Jaebum exhales on a weak, disbelieving sigh, but he slows down. Hands roaming over Jinyoung’s belly like he can’t quite believe they’re here either.

Those same hands are trembling when they flutter over Jinyoung’s jaw, tilting his head so that their eyes can meet. Jaebum strokes his cheek with a thumb, “Do you not want this anymore?”

He looks so worried, so concerned.

“I want this,” Jinyoung assures him, tongue darting over his dry lips. But it takes a lot for him to admit it. He didn’t think to account for the intimacy of them together. How good it would feel to be back in Jaebum’s arms.

“Okay,” Jaebum whispers, and then he laughs - bright and wonderful, pulling his cock back and causing prickling bursts of heat all over Jinyoung’s skin. “Okay.”

His fingers dig into Jinyoung’s skin, hips stuttering into a rhythm. Adjusting his knees, he gains leverage to fuck up into Jinyoung. He sneaks an arm beneath his back, jerks him closer and then his expression fixes into determination, and he fucks into Jinyoung fast and hard.

Jinyoung tries his best to roll his hips down, but his teeth are rattling, desire curling deep in his belly as his mind registers nothing but the weight of Jaebum rolling into him, and the slap of their skin coming together.

He’s squirming against the bed, helplessly arching against the other man, head thrown back as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

His hand scrambles up, fingers grasping at Jaebum’s wrist, wanting to hold him, wanting him to anchor him.

Heat still prickles all over, and he can’t help the way breathless sounds choke up in his throat, tumbling from his lips too loud for the quiet room.  

Jaebum speeds up, his hands holding down Jinyoung’s hips and Jinyoung feels too small to bear him inside of him.

His other hand comes to his cock, jerking himself off awkwardly as he opens his eyes, watches the way Jaebum’s hips move, the way his own belly jiggles with each impact.

Jaebum is sweating, beads gathering at his hairline. His face is all screwed up in concentration, but he still looks so handsome, so beautiful.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung whimpers, voice stuttering out of his chest. Jaebum’s eyes snaps to his, hips falling out of rhythm. Jinyoung can’t keep his eyes open, they keep rolling back, precipice rolling closer and closer until he tips over it, orgasm ripping through him.

It winds up all around him, wrapping him tight into a vice - everything locked up so tight, that it feels like another wave of an orgasm when he finally relaxes - boneless.

He feels like he’s suspended in air - experiencing everything as though in a dream, as if everything’s been slowed down. The feeling of Jaebum’s cock pumping into him, the vulnerable dip of his brow as Jinyoung tightens around him in aftershocks, the curve of his mouth as he comes.

And then, Jinyoung’s name leaving his chest in a sigh, the press of his nose in Jinyoung’s neck, the low, incessant chants, ‘Jinyoung,’ he sighs, ‘my love, my love, my love.’

It’s uncomfortable when Jaebum pulls out, as it always is. Jinyoung hates the tacky feel of used-up lube.

Jaebum takes off the condom, cleans them inadequately with his discarded t-shirt before he flops over next to him.

The air is thick, smelling like sex and them. Jinyoung catches his breath quickly, but he feels molten, like he’s sinking into Jaebum’s sheets, like he won’t be able to gather up the energy to move for eons.

When he makes to get up, Jaebum acts quickly, hand around his wrist.

“Don’t go,” he says to him, eyes wide and worried. He leans up awkwardly, wincing when Jinyoung tenses. “You can-.” He stops, licking his lips before he tries again. “Let’s leave the regret for tomorrow. Stay here with me for tonight.”

He guides Jinyoung down, and despite everything, Jinyoung lays down easily, fitting his ear against Jaebum’s chest, their legs intertwining.

It feels right to be wrapped up like this again, their hearts beating close together. Jinyoung’s eyes flutter shut. Once, twice; and then he falls asleep.

-

At first, Jinyoung can’t figure out what’s woken him up.

He blinks. He’s lying on his side, naked, with a heavy arm draped over his waist.

Then, sound cuts through his thoughts. His phone, ringing again.

Jaebum squirms behind him, mostly still asleep, as Jinyoung reaches over the bed, following the sound.

His phone is in the back pocket of his jeans, on the floor. He unlocks it quickly before it switches off and presses it to his ear, eyes closed against the bright display.

Jinyoung takes a deep, sleepy breath. “Hello?”

There’s a pause.

“Are you drunk?”

It’s Minhyuk, though there’s none of the usual cheer in his voice.

“What?” Jinyoung frowns, rubbing at his eye socket with the ball of his hand. “Of course not. I was asleep.”

“Right,” Minhyuk replies, the edge in his voice replaced with confusion. “Of course you were. You forgot to pick up Yugyeom.”

Jinyoung freezes. Then, he groans, runs a hand through his tangled hair.

“What time is it?”

“Nearing two in the morning,” Minhyuk says. “I was worried, so I called.”

Jinyoung sighs. “I’m sorry, hyung. Do you need me to come pick him up?”

Minhyuk laughs, “No. He’s passed out with Hyunwoo on the bed. I can take care of him until tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” Jinyoung assures him. “Thanks, hyung.”

Jinyoung hangs up after Minhyuk’s goodbyes, feeling terrible. He wasn’t meant to sleep this long.

He sighs again, placing his phone on Jaebum’s bedside table.

Pushing Jaebum’s arm off of him, Jinyoung stands up. Even in the dark, or as dark as Seoul gets at night anyway, he can make out the slight silhouette of an open door - a bathroom beyond it.

He pads towards it, squinting against the bright light when he flips the switch.

The sink is wide and round, sitting atop the counter with a heavy metal tap.

Jinyoung washes his face with cold water, tap running quietly. It’s not until he’s reaching for the face-towel that Jaebum appears.

He’s naked too, and he approaches Jinyoung cautiously, their eyes on each other through the huge mirror.

He doesn’t stop until he’s right behind Jinyoung, hesitant hands sliding across the skin of his stomach. Jaebum’s reluctant to part their gazes, but when he does, it’s to press warm, delicate kisses on the curve of Jinyoung’s shoulder.

Jinyoung can’t help but relax in his hold. Can’t stop looking at the way they fit together in the mirror, skin against skin, soft and defined, dark heads side by side.

Jinyoung’s hands come to rest above Jaebum’s and the other man gives him a light squeeze in response.

“Where do we go from here?” Jaebum asks, voice low.

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung answers, after a long moment. He turns his head, so that he’s looking at Jaebum in the eye rather than through the mirror. His voice is hushed too. “I don’t know yet.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so THAT happened! 
> 
> p.s. i did make a curious cat btw!!! my username is thelogicoftaste: you can find it


	11. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brb, crying buckets 
> 
> this is for all the anons who left me questions on my curious cat! thank you ♡
> 
> and, because this might get confusing, this goes: present, past, past, present, present, present

It doesn't matter if I'm not enough

For the future or the things to come

['Cause I'm young and in love.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-NTv0CdFCk)

-

Jaebum’s hands have always been warm. Jinyoung loved holding on to them, tucking them between this thighs, placing them on his belly. Jaebum’s always been a warm source of heat.

Now, his hands roam all over Jinyoung’s back, and they’re scorching; leaving a trail blaze in their wake.

Jinyoung’s on his stomach, breathing heavily with anticipation. The sun is peeking over the horizon; hazy through Jaebum’s curtains.

It’s the first time Jinyoung’s seeing Jaebum’s bedroom in the light of day. Not that he’s paying much attention.

He can feel the even tone of Jaebum’s breathing against the nape of his neck. And he’s too warm. But it feels so good. Like molasses, trickling down his spine. Teeth set against his skin, cushioned by a gentle mouth.

Jaebum pushes in, Jinyoung opening up for him. It pushes Jinyoung’s hips into the bed, forces a groan from his chest and he shivers from head to toe.

His lips are dry so he licks over them, already thinking of all the different ways he’ll push Jaebum down later, sink into him just like this - so that he knows the madness he’s putting Jinyoung through.

He can’t stop twitching, hips circling into the thick cock inside of him.

Above him, Jaebum holds himself in as close as he possibly can. His skin, sticky with exertion and an unfortunate encounter with the bottle of lube ten minutes earlier, spends sparks of electricity burying themselves into Jinyoung.

He can feel every inch of him like this - heavy, substantial. It feels right. Like the universe was just slightly out of sync and Jinyoung never noticed until right this second, until right now.

Every movement of Jaebum’s hips, every twitch, drags across Jinyoung’s rim. His chest feels tight, but he loves feeling weighed down like this.

It’s so slow and lazy outside still, but Jaebum’s pace picks up. He plants his elbows on each side of Jinyoung’s head, gaining enough leverage to swing his hips into him, out of him - until Jinyoung’s dizzy with it.

The apartment is silent apart from their heavy breaths, they don’t even talk (not that they need to, to understand each other like this). Jinyoung doesn’t want to ruin the calm of the early morning, when Seoul is sleeping and nothing matters but the way that Jaebum’s fingers dig into his thighs, holds him tight against him.

Jinyoung’s hand reaches back to hold on to him too, feeling the way the muscle of the other man’s thigh moves beneath his palm.

Then his hand trails upwards, across the soft cotton of the bed, over Jaebum’s skin, until Jinyoung can bury his fingers in his hair.

His eyes are closed; deep, guttural groans being fucked out of him. But he tightens his fingers in Jaebum’s hair, and then he pulls.

Jaebum cries out, hips stuttering to an almost stop, and then his pace picks up - faster, more desperate.

“Fuc- Jinyoung,” he says, breath hot against Jinyoung’s ear, hips grinding against him, chest stuttering. “Fuck. I love you.”

-

Yugyeom is two.

He’s two and he loves congee. Which is fortunate because it’s just about the only thing Jinyoung knows how to make decently.

When Jinyoung's making it, the kid will weave between his legs in anticipation, and when it’s done he’ll open his mouth wide for each heaped spoonful and hum in pleasure, wiggling.

He’ll look at Jinyoung, food smeared all over his cheeks and grin, say, “Appa, I like it.”

So.

Jinyoung is stumped.

The kid’s at the table, tears streaming down his reddened face, a bowl of warmed congee in front of him, and he wails.

“I don’t want it,” he screeches, sat as far back in the chair as he possibly can. “I don’t like it. I don’t-. I don’t-”

And then he dissolves into uncontrollable crying once again. Jinyoung loves his kid, of course he does, but he can’t help but compare the sound to nails on a chalkboard; loud, high, unbearable.

Jinyoung just doesn’t know what to do. He stares ineffectually at the kid, lost and dejected.

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung tries to reason, trying to keep his voice level over the kid’s voice. He’s tired, he has a headache, and his two year old hasn’t stopped screaming for the past half an hour. “You have to eat it. Appa’s only made this today. So you have to eat it.”

 _“No!”_ Yugyeom screams at him. And honestly, you’d think Jinyoung’s trying to poison him. His cheeks are blotchy, tears smeared over his face. “I don’t _wunnit._ I’m not eating it.”

“Yes, you are,” Jinyoung stresses. He leans over and curls his fingers underneath the ridge of the seat Yugyeom’s sitting in and pulls it towards the table. “I’m not arguing with you.”

But Yugyeom is screaming at the top of his lungs (Jinyoung can already tell he’s going to have to distribute an apology note to their neighbours later), but he’s kicking too.

His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s flailing and kicking. The chair wobbles precariously, and Jinyoung instinctively reaches out to hold the kid’s shoulder, afraid he’s going to topple over.

Yugyeom jerks, trying to shuck off Jinyoung’s hand.

“I’m not eating it,” he cries. “I don’t like it!”

His dodges Jinyoung’s hands, pushing his father away. But he pushes too hard, too clumsily, and his forearm catches on the bowl of congee in front of him.

So quick it takes almost no time at all. The hot contents spill all over the table, down Jinyoung’s shirt before the bowl tumbles off of the table, and smashes clean into pieces. Hot congee splatters everywhere.

 _“Yugyeom!”_ Jinyoung snaps. It thunders out of him, rebounding against the white walls of the kitchen and results in a dizzying silence.

It shocks the kid to his core. He jumps, then falls quiet. His crying stops. Face still streaked with tears, he looks at Jinyoung with big, wet eyes. His father doesn’t often raise his voice at him like this.

“Look what you’ve done,” Jinyoung continues, voice edged with frustration and pure, unadulterated anger. He snatches a tea towel discarded on the table and hastily wipes down the sticky congee on Yugyeom’s leg. It’s not incredibly hot, but Jinyoung doesn’t want it on the kid’s skin any longer than necessary. Even if he’s a little harsher with the wiping than he usually would be.

“Are you happy now?” he demands, looking at Yugyeom in the eye. The kid isn’t able to hold his gaze for long, he avoids it, shame trickling in to his tear-rimmed eyes. “Is this what you wanted?”

With a few more cursory wipes of the tea towel, most of the residue is gone. But Jinyoung will have to give the kid a bath before bed, adding yet another twenty minutes of parental obligation to a day that is already too long.

“Go to your room,” Jinyoung dismisses the kid, throwing the soiled towel back on the table. His own shirt is soaked through, weighing heavily down with the cooling, congealed rice.

Yugyeom’s voice is soft, hesitant, “Appa-”

 _"Now!"_   

Yugyeom doesn’t argue this time. He presses his lips together, eyes averted, and slips off the chair quickly, little socked feet giving a wide berth to the mess he’s made on the floor.  

Jinyoung’s shoulders drop as soon as the kid’s out of sight, tiredness weighing heavy on his mind.

His shirt feels disgusting, so he heads to his bedroom first. He scrapes as much of the stickiness as he can into the trash in the bathroom, and then he switches shirts.

Yugyeom has been in a crabby mood all day. So his tantrum was predictable. But it’s still exhausting. Jinyoung sits heavily on Jaebum’s side of the bed, taking a moment to just breathe.

Then he twists around, reaching for his phone - where he’d discarded it on his pillow a few hours earlier.

There’s a text from Jaebum, time-stamped an hour and forty-five minutes ago.

‘How are you holding up?’ it says. ‘I’ll try to get home soon, I’m sorry.’

Jinyoung sighs, knowing that he’ll probably receive another message in a few hours.

‘I have to stay late,’ it’ll say. ‘I’m sorry, baby.’

It won’t stop the feeling of frustration though, no matter the sweet words. Because it’s Saturday evening, and Jaebum’s supposed to be at home with his family. But he’s not.

Jinyoung presses the bright green call button, listening to the line ring out. Jaebum doesn’t pick up, and Jinyoung can’t even bring himself to be surprised. That’s all they seem to do these days, miss each other by a few minutes, moments, hours.

He takes a deep, cleansing breath and heads back out.

Yugyeom is sitting on the edge of his bed, holding on to one of his story books. He flicks through the thick cardboard pages, their colourful drawings and their big chunky hangul. But he doesn’t seem to be reading it at all. His mouth is twisted in a little pout, cheeks still rosy.

He looks up when he gauges Jinyoung’s presence; the look in his eye is cautious, chastised. This is why Jinyoung hates telling him off, as rare as it happens, because he can’t bare the way Yugyeom curls into himself afterwards.

It’s funny because when Jinyoung was a little boy, a child quite a bit older than Yugyeom is now, he used to be much more mischievous. So he was on the end of his parent’s admonishing words far more frequently.

His mother used to say, ‘It hurts me to discipline you. Don’t do it again. It makes my heart hurt.’

He used to scoff quietly to himself. But he thinks he gets it now, the twisting in his heart.

“Come,” he tells his son now, beckoning with his hand. “You still need to have your dinner.”

The kitchen, when he leads the kid in by the hand, is a disaster.

Sticky, congealing congee clings to the tiled floor. The bowl is still on the floor. It didn’t splinter into too many shards, but from here Jinyoung can see little fragments scattered. He can’t believe he let Yugyeom walk on the floor in this state.

He picks up the kid now, and sets him back in the chair. There’s a little bit of warmed congee still in the pot. And though he was planning to save it for the kid’s breakfast tomorrow, Jinyoung spoons it into a clean (plastic) bowl he picks up from the drying rack.

He places it in front of the kid and extends a spoon. Yugyeom grasps the fat, yellow handle of it, but Jinyoung doesn’t let go.

His son’s eyes meet his.

“You’re going to eat it all, right?” Jinyoung asks.

Yugyeom nods, still silent, hair flopping into his eyes.

“With your words,” Jinyoung admonishes gently. “Yugyeom.”

The kid presses his lips together. “Yeah, Appa. Eat all of it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Jinyoung gets to cleaning the kitchen. He scoops up as much of the fallen congee as he can onto the splintered bowl, before dumping both in the trash. Then he crouches by the table to collect the more sizeable fragments. Despite his still simmering anger Jinyoung can’t help but soften at the way Yugyeom’s feet twitch in his socks as they swing.

When that’s all done, he gives the tiles a quick cursory wipe with a mop, though he knows he’ll have to revisit it once the kid’s in bed. So he moves on to the dishes, mind drifting as he absently, mechanically, works through them.

He’s taken out of his reverie with the tiny clatter of plastic on to the counter. Yugyeom is on his tiptoes, pushing his finished bowl and spoon next to his father with a little effort.

Jinyoung didn’t even hear him leave the table. The kid stands in front of him, hands clasped, lips turned down and eyes trained somewhere around his father’s waist.

Jinyoung sighs, hating how sad he looks. He cleans his hands on a tea towel and runs his fingers through the kid’s baby soft hair.

Yugyeom leans into it immediately, going soft and malleable when Jinyoung bends to pick him up and settles him against his shoulder.

“It’s been a hard day, right?” Jinyoung sighs, rubbing his back.

Yugyeom squirms closer, hiding his face in Jinyoung’s neck.

It’s easy getting him washed and to bed. He fusses a little when brushing his teeth, of course. And he fusses when Jinyoung tells him he’s not allowed his customary playtime (Jinyoung’s soft for his kid, but not so soft to let him get away with naughtiness).

Overall, though. It’s easy. Yugyeom is knocked out in his bed in no time, fists curled by his head as Jinyoung places his bedtime book back to the shelf and tiptoes out.

It’s just.

It’s lonely.

That’s what it is. Jinyoung feels lonely. Especially when he crawls into his and Jaebum’s big bed and there’s no one there to greet him. Just the silence of the apartment that reverberates back to him. A zinging almost as loud as his own thoughts.

Jinyoung’s book is loose between his fingers; his eyes sticking closed with sleepiness behind his reading glasses.

He stays up as long as he can stand it, but finally falls asleep close to midnight.

Jinyoung only wakes up later, with the familiar warmth of someone else behind him, and an arm weaving around his waist.

His hand automatically goes to cover Jaebum’s, and he turns a little to peer at him through sleepy eyes and the heavy darkness of their room.

“You’re back,” Jinyoung mumbles, smothering a yawn. “What time is it?”

Jaebum’s breath is warm on the collar of his pyjama shirt. “It’s late. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Don’t matter,” Jinyoung replies, turning back so he’s a little more comfortable. His fingers curling tight against Jaebum’s. “Glad I got to see you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Jaebum’s lips are soft, on Jinyoung’s neck. But this close, Jinyoung can smell Jaebum’s favourite beer on him.

“Where’d you go?”

“I was at the company.” Jaebum’s thumb runs across Jinyoung’s knuckles. “There was a problem with one of the files. It was corrupted, so I had to try to salvage it. That’s why I was called in. I’ve been working on it all day.”

Jinyoung’s a little more awake now, a little more alert. “After that.”

Jaebum tenses a little, Jinyoung can feel it along the line of his body, pressed in as close as they are.

“I went out,” Jaebum admits, forging forward despite Jinyoung’s heavy, frustrated sigh. “With Hyolyn and a few other producers. We were working on the track before that.”

“They couldn’t get someone else in?”

“It’s my song,” Jaebum explains, tired but patient. “We had to rebuild a lot of the central components again. There was nobody else who could do it.”

“Still,” Jinyoung presses. “You couldn’t come home right after that? You didn’t need to go out drinking.”

Jaebum sighs, arms loosening around Jinyoung’s waist like he wants to move away. “Don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” Jinyoung parrots, holding tight to the other man’s arm. “Hyung, you see them every day. For far too long already. And you still want to go out drinking with them every night?”

“Don’t exaggerate, Jinyoung-ah,” Jaebum responds. “It’s the first time in weeks-”

“That you’ve gone out, maybe,” Jinyoung interrupts. “But if you’re not out at a bar, you’re always at the company. You stay there late almost every day.”

“I stay because I have to,” Jaebum says. “We have so many comebacks around the corner. I’m producing a lot of them, it’s not like it can go on without me.”

Jinyoung bites his lip. Takes a deep breath. “That doesn’t mean you have to run off to the bar every time they invite you along. It just takes you away from home, from _us,_ even more.”

“I know you don’t like it,” Jaebum says softly, trying to diffuse the situation. He stops and starts, struggling with his words. “But I enjoy my work. I enjoy who I work with too. For the first time in a really long time. I’m comfortable with them. The bar … it was a business get-together. It was good for networking.” He pauses, hesitating, arm unconsciously tightening around Jinyoung’s waist. “It’s good for making friends too.”

Jinyoung holds back a sigh, and pulls Jaebum’s hand closer to his chest.

“I need you here. With your family. I can’t do it alone.”

“You’re not doing it on your own.”

“Aren’t I?” Jinyoung demands, twisting round to look at him.

At the look on Jaebum’s face, though, he softens a little.

“I’m glad you’re getting along with your coworkers, hyung. I’m happy that you’re putting yourself out there, socialising. But,” he says, swallowing tightly. Jinyoung wouldn’t call it jealousy exactly. He’s just happier when Jaebum’s at home. With him. “Can’t you cut back on seeing them a little?”

Jaebum doesn’t respond at first. His arm’s a little slacker around Jinyoung’s waist.

“Okay,” he says eventually. “If that’s-. Okay. I will.”

Jinyoung reaches up to press a warm kiss on Jaebum’s mouth. Contentment blooming in his chest at the way Jaebum lips pucker to kiss him back.

After, they rearrange themselves. Jinyoung squirming until he’s comfortably lying on Jaebum’s chest.

He feels a little guilty. But a lot more relieved. He buries his nose in the crook of Jaebum’s neck, smelling his warm scent as they curl up under the covers. Jinyoung indulges himself, because he can feel the pressure mounting beneath the palm he rests on Jaebum’s stomach.

It’s not the first time he’s noticed the stress marking the rigidity of the other man’s body, and Jinyoung knows that the dam is just about to break.

-

A few months later, Jaebum’s late again.

Yugyeom is already sound asleep. The apartment’s zinging again. But this time Jinyoung sits in the kitchen, working. Although his mind is elsewhere.

The clock strikes closer to midnight.

Soon, the lock clicks and the door opens. Jaebum’s steps into their home are quiet, he doesn’t want to wake them up.

He’s surprised to see Jinyoung at the table, mouth already quirking into a cautious smile.

Before he can say anything though, Jinyoung is already kicking off the table; standing up with a long scrape of his chair.

Jaebum’s expression dims at the sight of Jinyoung’s hard, unforgiving gaze. He doesn’t say anything though, not even when Jinyoung aggressively shoulders past him.

Not even when Jinyoung slams the door of their bedroom so loud that it echoes.

Jaebum doesn’t sleep in their bed tonight. There are no kisses between them either.

-

When Jinyoung wakes up, this time ‘round, he knows exactly where he is and with who.

Jaebum’s skin is smooth and warm beneath him. His heartbeat is strong and steady. And his hand, cupped around Jinyoung’s shoulder, is soothing as he rubs his thumb in loose, abstract patterns.

Jinyoung sighs deeply, eyes fluttering open. Waking up in slow, unsteady increments.

He stretches out his toes first, then tucks his knees in a little.

Jaebum tenses, hand slowing down its caresses until it finally stops.

When Jinyoung looks up at him, he finds Jaebum already watching him. Eyes gentle, but careful.

Right.

This is where the regret is supposed to come flooding in, isn’t it?

But Jinyoung doesn’t feel any of that. He doesn’t know whether he should be surprised or not.

Instead of dwelling on it (swapping logical compartmentalisation for pure feeling for once) he tilts his head back, and pushes upwards - capturing Jaebum’s lips in a sweet kiss.

It's soft. And Jinyoung’s eyes flutter shut as he presses in for more.

There’s familiarity in Jaebum’s warm mouth. But they also kiss like it’s something new, unexplored. They’re careful with each other, lips coming together as the air heats up between them.

Jinyoung’s mouth tingles. They kiss over and over again. Kisses parting almost noiselessly, with a tacky kind of feeling, before they dive back in again - slow and insatiable.

When it’s over, and they lean back to get some air, escaping a little of the sticky lust between them, Jinyoung can’t help but run his teeth over his lips; memorising Jaebum’s taste.

The other man’s chest is heaving.

“We should talk,” he says. “We should have talked before anything happened.”

Jinyoung lies down on the pillow next to Jaebum. “Maybe, we should have. But,” he shrugs. “What’s done, is done.”

Their eyes meet, gazes holding on to each other.

“I miss you,” Jinyoung tells him; raw, honest.

Jaebum’s breath catches, his arm tightening around Jinyoung. “I miss you too.”  
  
Jinyoung doesn’t know how long he’s been waiting to hear those words. Too long. His heart feels full, but brittle - all at the same time. He can’t help the way his brow crinkles. “Then why’d you leave, Jaebum?”

Even though they could both feel the air tightening in anticipation of this question, when it’s finally out there, it feels like the room’s been robbed clean of air.

For a few fragile seconds, nothing happens.

Then Jaebum shifts, jostling Jinyoung from his shoulder as he sits up. The sheets pool around his waist; the tanned skin of his back smoothing across the knuckles of his spine as his head drops and he takes a deep breath.

Jinyoung sits up after him, hesitantly laying his hand - fingertips first - on the other man’s shoulder.

“Please talk to me,” he says. “I just want to understand.”

“I didn’t think-.” Jaebum starts, he’s not looking in his direction. His body is wound tight with tension, and Jinyoung just wants to soothe him. “I didn’t think I’d be leaving.”

Jinyoung freezes, brows furrowing.

“What?” he asks, breathless. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jaebum says, looking at him. “I wasn’t really thinking-, I didn’t realise how … that was the end. Of us.”

Jinyoung blinks. “That’s-”

“Selfish,” Jaebum cuts in. “I know. I wasn’t thinking at all. I just felt trapped, Young-ah. I know that sounds awful-”

“It is-”

“But that’s not how I mean it.”

“Then what do you mean,” Jinyoung asks, urgency making his voice rise. He stops, gathers himself and makes a concentrated effort. “Tell me what you mean. I’m listening.”  

Jaebum’s always struggled with putting his words out there, in a way that makes sense. To him at least. He’s always felt more comfortable getting lost in a beat, or in the edited and re-edited verses of his songs.

But Jinyoung can see he’s trying now. That’s something, at least.

“I felt lonely,” he says awkwardly. He’s staring into the middle distance, finding comfort in the feel of the cotton beneath his fingers. “I was either working a lot. Too much. Or at home with Yugyeom. And-. It wasn’t like, like it is today. Gyeom’s always been a pretty independent kid. But it just felt like he didn’t need me.”

He looks at Jinyoung, lips pressing together helplessly before he continues. “He’d just sit on his own on the floor. Playing with his toys, just waiting for you to come home. And when you did, he’d be all over you. But. He wasn’t like that with me. It was like he was a different kid back then. It was … hard to watch that. To live it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jinyoung asks him, hand sliding down to his back. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Jaebum emits a short, breathless laugh. The same kind he does whenever he wants to tell Jinyoung something that’ll probably offend him.

“Would you have understood where I was coming from, though, Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung’s lips part. They stare at each other, but he ends up looking away first.

He coughs, both hands coming to rest in his lap as he mirrors Jaebum’s position.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” he says. “Yugyeom. Kids are fickle. He plays differently with everyone. It doesn’t mean he loved you any less.”

“I know,” Jaebum replies. Then, he clarifies, “I know that _now._ ”

“Is that why you left, then? Because of … that?”

Jaebum takes a deep breath. “No. I-. I couldn’t help the way I felt. It was like walking around with your ears constantly ringing. Back then. I used to leave the company and I just-. Walked. I walked and walked, until I felt like my knees were going to give out. That wasn’t fair to you,” he admits, reaching out for Jinyoung’s hand. “Or to Gyeom. And it made me feel awful. But there was something that stopped me from … connecting? I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

Jinyoung’s throat feels dry. He clings to Jaebum’s hand.

“And that night, then?”

“And then that night,” Jaebum repeats with a sigh. “I was on the other side of the city. It was so late by that point, and I couldn’t face going home,” he winces. “I’m sorry, I-. So I went to Mark’s. And I stayed there.”

Jinyoung tries to breathe steadily, but his heart’s beating so fast in his chest.

“Thanks,” he says, even though that’s not what he’s feeling at all. “Thanks for telling me-. It doesn’t make it. It doesn’t make it easier. But I think I understand a little more now.”

Jaebum nods, avoiding Jinyoung’s gaze. “I made a lot of mistakes. I hurt you a lot. But I did a lot of growing up while we were apart. I want to prove it to you, to Gyeom too, that I’m a better person. A more capable person. I want to be in your lives fully again. If-. If you want me to.”

Jinyoung’s hands feel clammy around Jaebum’s. Both of them are looking away. But they’re still so attuned to each other.

“I-” he starts, cautiously. He doesn’t want to crush the ray of hope in Jaebum’s eyes. “I want to trust you like I did before.”

“Young-ah-”

Jinyoung shakes his head. “I’m not there yet, hyung. Not yet.”  

Jaebum deflates, but Jinyoung remains steadfast.

“There’s nothing you can do now but show me through your actions, long-term, that you’ve changed. I won’t accept anything less.”

Nodding eagerly, and he reaches out to touch Jinyoung’s wrist with the pad of his finger.

“Whatever it takes,” he promises. “I’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung says. It makes him smile, the way Jaebum’s face just opens up in surprise. “Let’s take it slow.”

His voice is hushed, like he doesn’t want to ruin the preciousness of the moment. “You mean that?”

“No,” he immediately replies, deadpan. “I’m lying to you.”

Jaebum’s face freezes. It’s so cute.  

Jinyoung snorts. “You don’t have to look like you have a stick up your ass.”

Jaebum laughs, choked. “I don’t know how to react.”

“There’s nothing to react to,” Jinyoung says, gentler this time. “We’re both adults. We’re making a mutual decision.” His cheeks flush with heat, but he soldiers on. “I want to be with you. I want to work towards that. So. Now, we’re here.”

Jaebum smiles, top lip thinning out in pure happiness. His eyes fold into the crescents Jinyoung loves so much. 

“Now, we’re here.”

He leans over to kiss Jinyoung again, over and over again, hands cupped around his jaw. He pushes his weight onto Jinyoung’s chest, kissing more teeth than anything else as Jinyoung laughs; crawling over him to kiss him deeper as he lies in the cotton-soft sheets of his bed.

-

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum warns the kid. “Be careful how you play. You’ll end up hurting others if you’re not careful.”

His sunglasses are perched on his head, tucking his hair into a mound at the front. He’s wearing a black button-down, open at the collar, instead of his usual get up.

Jaebum looks fancy, and sexy. Much too sexy to be carefully deconstructing a McDonald’s burger at three in the afternoon. He's glaring as his kid messily climbs the slide (made of thick yellow plastic that’s probably infested with germs from children who don’t wash their hands). Jinyoung doesn’t want to think about it.

 _“I’m_ being careful,” Bambam pipes up, popping out of one of the tunnels, a purple ball from the pit in each hand. “Aren’t I, Uncle Jaebum?”

“I’m being careful too,” Yugyeom yells, not to be out-done by his pint-sized best friend. His leg is dangling over the side of slide, but he’s near the bottom, shirt pushed up on his stomach. “See, Daddy?”

They have them both today. Or rather, Jinyoung is supposed to have them both today. Jaebum’s tagging along.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “Come back here, both of you. Your food’s getting cold.”

He doesn’t want to hear any complaints from tiny humans about cold food after trying to find the nearest McDonald’s in Seoul at their behest. Especially not when it took forty minutes to get here, and the kids we’re promptly distracted by the play area.

They come eventually. Only grumbling a little when Jinyoung insists on cleaning their hands with a disinfectant wipe.

Yugyeom sits in Jaebum’s lap, comfortable and content, smearing barbecue sauce all over his mouth.

On the other side of the table, Bambam slumps against Jinyoung’s side; leaning so far over he’s practically the most he can be on his lap without actually physically being there.

Jinyoung picks him up by the armpits, placing him on his lap. Jaebum catches his eye, and they share a smile over the way Bambam relaxes in Jinyoung’s hold, pleased and so comfortable with him.

Yugyeom, long past the stage where he’d get viciously jealous if Jinyoung so much as glanced at another child, smiles cutely at them. Then, he snatches Bambam’s Happy Meal toy when he thinks the kid’s not looking.

“Yugyeom, _no._ ”

-

(“Appa,” Yugyeom says later. He’s not even looking at Jinyoung. All his attention is spent on pulling at a soggy piece of lettuce until it slides out of his burger. He plops it on the table without a care in the world. “Daddy. I want to have a brother.”

Jaebum chokes on his mouthful. Jinyoung can’t help but laugh; the pretty, tinkling giggles of the kids joining in too.)

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe this is the beginning of the end, folks? :( 
> 
> p.s. i might do an epilogue [eye emoji] so if you guys have any suggestions or prompts - let me know in my cc [here](https://curiouscat.me/thelogicoftaste) or on my twitter @exosbebe
> 
> p.p.s. thank you all for supporting lil ol' me and my fic ♡  
> 


	12. You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someone hold my feelings T.T

Just like now, only stay by my side  
[Look at me warmly just like this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktc8XDBq93k)

-

Travelling on Seoul’s subway at peak rush hour isn’t Jinyoung’s idea of a good time.

Having to take his four year old along for the journey, though?

Nightmare.

Yugyeom is clinging to his neck, legs around his waist. And his arms tighten around Jinyoung’s throat everytime he thinks he’s going to put him down.

Which is, unfortunately enough, far too often.

Jinyoung’s arms are getting tired. They’re tucked under Yugyeom’s butt, gently bouncing the kid to soothe him. It’s just uncomfortable overall. The handles of his son’s weekend bag are digging into the pads of his fingers, threatening to slip off.

They’re standing near the doors of the carriage, squished into a corner with far too many people near them.

It’s too hot and too crowded, but there’s only a few more stops to go and Jinyoung hopes they can make it before the kid goes into meltdown. He hikes Yugyeom up from where he’d been sliding down, settling him more comfortably on his waist.

“Can I put you down, Gyeom-ah?” Jinyoung asks. He tries to make his voice sweeter, more convincing, but it’s undercut by how winded he is.

“No,” Yugyeom cries, eyes big and round. He tries to tuck himself closer, “I can’t, Appa. I don’t want to get lost.”

An older gentleman in a business suit, face podgy and red, glances over his shoulder at them. He sways on the hand grasping at the overhead handle, judgement in his eyes.

Hiking the kid up higher on his waist, Jinyoung smiles awkwardly at him, before returning his attention on Yugyeom.

“You won’t get lost,” he assures him quietly. “I promise.”

Yugyeom purses his lips instead, whining high in his throat.

Jinyoung sighs.

The weekend bag really is too heavy. He bends down to put the weekend bag on the floor between his legs.

Big mistake. The kid startles, arms tightening around Jinyoung’s neck in panic.

His chest stutters, dry sobs heaving.

“No, Appa,” Yugyeom says. “I’m gonna get lost.”

Jinyoung stands upright as fast as he can. He can hold him better now, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

“You’re not going to get lost,” he tells Yugyeom. Bending his neck a little to press their foreheads together. He softens his voice into one of understanding. He can’t always follow the rationale of his son’s fears, but he tries his best to acknowledge them anyway. “Don’t you know Appa won’t let anything happen to you?”

Yugyeom huffs in distress. Then, he buries his face in Jinyoung’s neck, warm breaths heavy on his skin. There’s nothing more that Jinyoung can do other than hold him tight. He buries his nose in his son’s soft hair and sways gently with the motion of the carriage.

“You’re really heavy,” Jinyoung comments idly. He rests his cheek on the crown of Yugyeom’s hair. “Did you eat a horse for breakfast?”

Yugyeom shifts, confused. But then he’s giggling, despite himself.

“No,” he denies. Jinyoung can hear the smile in voice, reflecting it almost unconsciously. “I don’t-. I don’t eat horses.”

“Are you sure?” Jinyoung teases. His eyes flicker to the map above the carriage door - two more stops to go. “Maybe you ate an elephant instead.”

Yugyeom’s chubby fingers pull at the collar of Jinyoung’s shirt.

 _“No,_ Appa,” he laughs. “I don’t eat elephants as well.”

The kid’s syllables roll into each other (he hasn’t quite got the hang of animal names just yet). Jinyoung pats his butt fondly, cycling through some more animals.

It’s a good distraction until they come into their station. Jinyoung braces himself.

They land on the platform with some minor jostling, thankfully. And Jinyoung heads straight towards one of the metal benches.

He places the weekend bag down before he sits, kid settling on his lap.

The platform empties quickly, swathes of people moving en masse up the stairs. Yugyeom watches them with unabashed curiosity, hand resting on his father’s chest.

When the last of them are gone, he looks at Jinyoung.

“Better?” Jinyoung asks wryly.

The kid bites down on his bottom lip, sheepish. And there’s a shy smile breaking out on his face. Jinyoung snorts a laugh.

He can’t resist peppering his face with a few hard kisses. Yugyeom laughs, going soft and pliable.

The platform has a few more people wandering into it from above. The next train is due to come in soon, so Jinyoung stands, placing the kid on his feet on the floor.

Yugyeom extends his hand without needing to be asked; small, soft fingers wrapping around his father’s.

They brave the stairs slowly and carefully. The kid finds his balance with a hand on the wall and takes each step one at a time. One little foot on the step. Then the other one. Rinse and repeat.

Until they emerge at the ground level of the subway station.

When they get outside, the heat is still rolling in despite the time inching closer to evening.

It’s not too far of a walk, but Jinyoung would have still preferred to drive. He didn’t because Jaebum’s still at his company. And since Jinyoung’s going out after, he won’t be able to drive and he can’t leave his car in JYP’s parking lot all night.

So he sucks it up, they survived the subway anyway. Jinyoung hopes this’ll be the last time in a long while he has to take the kid to one.

Yugyeom is already starting to whine, dragging his feet a little. But after one too many storefronts, crossing a few streets, turning a long corner, the building emerges.

“Finally,” Jinyoung murmurs to himself as the skyscraper comes into view; JYP emblazoned on the shiny glass facade.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom agrees, huffing slightly, one hand grasping on the strap of his Mickey Mouse backpack. “Appa, we’re here? We’re gonna see Daddy?”

Jinyoung glances down at him, thumb running over the softness of his hand. “We are. Are you excited?”

“Uh huh,” he nods, head bouncing enthusiastically. He watches his steps on the pavement. “I like-, I like when we go see Daddy. Are you excited like me?”

Jinyoung smiles, hand involuntarily squeezing his son’s. “Yeah,” he shares quietly. “Yeah, I’m exited too, baby.”

Yugyeom doesn’t recognise or understand the lovesick timbre of Jinyoung’s voice. He just takes it at face value, tugging on his father’s hand.

“Let’s go, then, Appa,” he urges, little legs working fast. “We gotta hurry.”

-

As a general rule, Jinyoung avoids exchanging Yugyeom in public places. He prefers doing it at his or Jaebum’s apartments.

First, because he dislikes dropping off the kid like he’s a delivery package, like a transaction or a burden.

But mostly because of how awkward it is.

“Lim Jaebum?” the receptionist at JYP’s front desk repeats, lost. She has a no-nonsense brown bob around her round, youthful face. Her eyes drag from where Yugyeom’s on the tops of his toes, trying to peer over the desk, to Jinyoung. “From which department?”

“Music,” Jinyoung says, voice echoing over the large tiles slabs of the entrance. It’s strangely quiet.

There are a few high-school aged kids in their uniforms loitering outside the heavy glass doors with huge DSLRs strapped to their front.

And a guard stands by the turnstiles, near the elevators, watching them through close-set, beady eyes.

The slightly creepy feeling of being in a public building after business hours, when most people have left, lingers.

The receptionist, fingers poised above her keyboard, quirks an eyebrow - almost amused.

“Music?”

“Producing,” Jinyoung amends quickly. He smiles awkwardly. “He’s a producer. Def Soul.”

Her face clears in understanding.

“Ah,” she says. The pink wad of gum she’s trying to hide rolls between her teeth. “Do you have an appointment?”

Jinyoung’s lips part. He has to stop himself from pointing out that it’s six in the evening already and _why don’t you have meetings during normal business hours like normal people._

“He’s expecting me,” he says instead.

“Well, I’m going to have to confirm tha-”

Yugyeom bounces on his feet, loudly he interrupts, “That’s my daddy.”

The receptionist startles, glancing over at him like she’d forgotten he was even there.

“Do you know who my daddy is?” Yugyeom continues, adorably oblivious. “I’m gonna see him now.”

His fingers are gripping at the desk as he peers at her, mouthing at the marble curve of it.

Jinyoung grimaces. His kid is so gross. _Why_ is his kid so gross?

He tugs Yugyeom back by the back of his jacket, watching him stumble.

“Don’t put your mouth there,” he scolds. “That’s dirty.”

Yugyeom blinks, eyes sliding from Jinyoung to the desk. There’s a noise to the left - somewhere between a polite cough and a grunt of indignance.

“I-,” the receptionist begins. “I cleaned that earlier.”

She’s offended. Clearly trying to pretend she’s not.

Jinyoung stares at her. Not really sure how to explain that he doesn’t want his toddler mouthing at things that have come into contact with a myriad of bacteria and chemical cleaners.

“Right,” he says to her. He peers at her name tag, hidden in the folds of her navy blouse.

“Min,” she offers.

“Min-ssi,” he repeats, politeness tight in a smile. “Jaebum’s expecting us. Would I be able to go up? I have an appointment very soon.”

“Please, please, _please,_ can I see my Daddy?” Yugyeom adds, hands clasped together. At least the kid knows when to turn on the charm.

Min presses her lips together. Jinyoung thinks she’s annoyed, until he spots the indulgent smile she’s trying to smother.

“Alright,” she concedes. “Just this once.”

-

The room that Jaebum’s in is down a very long, wide corridor. Jinyoung leads Yugyeom past rows of cubicles and shiny glass offices with huge important-looking desks. There a few heavy black doors with Western writing, ‘Vocal Room’, ‘Piano Room’ and, finally, ‘Studio’.

Studio number six has a tiny red light beside it and a gold plaque beneath with Jaebum’s producing name neatly embossed.

Jinyoung knocks lightly, waiting just a second before opening the door.

And there’s …

There’s a lot more people in there than he expected.

Jaebum’s sitting towards the far right, headphones half-on, but the room is crowded with at least five more people. One standing against the wall on the left, some sitting on the tiny couch near the door, another one in the sound-proof booth right at the back.

Everyone turns to look at the door. Jinyoung startles into an embarrassed bow, getting five bows of uneven depths in return.

Yugyeom, unabashed as always, doesn’t even realise (or care) that they’ve interrupted Jaebum’s work.

“Daddy,” he screams, and then he runs straight for his father, catapulting himself on to his lap.

Jaebum catches him easily, laughing even though the kid’s knobbly knees have to hurt. He’s climbing all over him.

He gives him a hard kiss, and beckons Jinyoung to come in. But he quickly twists around - the kid like an energy monkey clinging to his neck - to press a particular button amongst a myriad of other buttons on his busy workspace.

“Felix,” he says in smooth, unaccented English. The boy in the booth regards him with wide eyes; blocky headphones making his tiny pixie-like face look even smaller. “Let’s take a twenty-minute break?”

The kid carefully places his headphones back on the stand before exiting out of the side door into the main room. He picks up his jacket, where it’s tucked between his group-mates on the squished couch.

Jaebum adjusts Yugyeom on his lap, hands keeping Yugyeom’s sticky fingers from touching the console.

The boys on the couch fidget, knocking each other with their elbows until one of them pipes up.

“PD-nim,” he says, mischief clear in his voice. “Is this your kid?”

Jaebum looks put-upon. Indulgent, but very put-upon.

He sighs, “Yes, this is Yugyeom.”

“Since when do you have a kid?” another one pipes up, shoulders almost to his ears, sunk deep as he is into the couch.

“Since four years ago,” Jaebum tells them. “When he was born. It’s not like I can get a refund.”

“I can’t believe you have a kid,” yet another boy says, ignoring Jaebum’s last jibe. “That’s like. Whoa.”

“Yeah. Exactly like ‘whoa,’” Jaebum repeats. Then, sarcastically, “Is there anything else you’d like to know about my life?”

Immediately, four floppy-haired heads turn pointedly in Jinyoung’s direction.

Jinyoung turns to Jaebum, where the other man’s cheeks grow flustered with heat.

“All of you,” he demands, pointing at the four boys by the couch. “Get out.”

“Def PD,” another of the boys start, sickly sweet.

“ _Out.”_

They scramble out of the door, almost on top of each other, followed by who Jinyoung assumes is their manager. A person who has scarcely looked up from the ice-blue glow of their mobile screen since Jinyoung has been in here.

The sounds of their laughter and heavy steps carry through the thick door, and then it’s quiet.

“Daddy,” Yugyeom says. “I’m a big boy.”

Jaebum takes a deep breath, still recovering.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You are.”

“Guess what, Daddy?”

“What?”

“I went all the way down and then, _vroom,_ all the way inside. And there were lots of people, and there were stairs and then it was really big and I went in with Appa and then we got here.”

“Did you?” Jaebum says, but it’s wobbly - still trying to process Yugyeom’s words. He’s at a loss, throwing a puzzled look towards Jinyoung.

‘The subway,’ he mouths at him. Jaebum’s face clears instantly.

“I see,” he says, voice low and mellow (filled with a musical cuteness that Jaebum will instantly deny). “You weren’t scared?”

“No,” the kid says. He’s still trying to reach the music console, fruitlessly attempting to evade Jaebum’s hands. “Only a little bit.”

He reaches for one of the controls, exhaling a frustrated whine when his father’s hand closes around his even tinier ones.

“Daddy,” he complains. “I want to play with it.”

“Well, it’s not a toy, Yugyeom-ah,” Jaebum explains, turning them away from the console altogether. “You can’t play with it.”

“But I _want_ to.”

Jaebum sighs, identical to Yugyeom’s just before. “Is that any way to greet me after I’ve been away? You know, being naughty means you won’t be able to have the present Daddy bought for you.”

This pulls the kid up short. His pout is less pronounced. Brows ticked up.

“Present?” he enquires.

Jinyoung snorts. Yugyeom’s so easy.

“Yeah,” Jaebum is telling him. “It’s in my bag. Why don’t you go see if you can find it?”

He places Yugyeom on the floor and they both watch as the kid toddles towards the small suitcase and carry-on that Jaebum’s heaped on the floor in the corner. He hasn’t even had the chance to go home yet.

When Yugyeom’s attention is all focused on the bag, Jinyoung and Jaebum turn to each other.

They’re on opposite sides of the room. Jinyoung leaning back against the wall and Jaebum, in his cool leather jacket, sitting in his chair.

Jaebum stands, walking towards him. He smiles, and his hands come to rest on the curve of Jinyoung’s waist.

“We’re not alone,” Jinyoung reminds him quietly. But he doesn’t move to remove Jaebum’s hands.

“I know,” Jaebum says. He doesn’t move his hands either. “Did you miss me?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. Jaebum was at a three day workshop in Jeju.

“I didn’t even notice you were gone.”

Jaebum’s brows jump, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. And then he looks petulantly offended.

Jinyoung laughs, he can’t help it.

His lips part to reply, but the door opens.

They both jump in surprise, automatically putting some distance between them.

“Hyung,” the person exclaims, door opening wide. “I heard you were taking a break so I-”

His eyes land on Jinyoung, and his voice catches in his throat; words stopping abruptly.

Youngjae’s eyes slide to Jaebum, still in close proximity, and then to Jinyoung.

He bows quickly in greeting. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jinyoung replies. He doesn’t bow back, and he can’t really help the way his voice is a little cool in tone.

The air between the three of them is filled with nervous trepidation. Like walking on eggshells, nobody wants to make the wrong move.

Yugyeom, however, can barely contain himself from excitement. He’s half buried among the things he’d methodically removed from Jaebum’s luggage.

“Youngjae hyung,” he exclaims, tiny teeth glinting in a grin. “You’re here.”

Youngjae smiles at him, but looks quickly back at Jaebum.

“I just came by to drop off the album concept sketches,” he says. “I can come back later. I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s fine,” Jaebum says, moving towards him. “I can take them now. We can schedule a meeting to review it later.”

Jinyoung fidgets. He doesn’t want to make Youngjae uncomfortable, but he doesn’t quite know how to achieve that. He scratches the back of his head, looks away.

“What’s that?” Yugyeom asks.

When Jinyoung glances at him, he’s staring at the takeaway cup in Youngjae’s other hand. It’s a squat, clear plastic kind of cup, with pale blue ribboning on the bottom and a wide straw.

Youngjae looks at his cup, where the remains of the pink liquid are sliding down the inside.

“It’s pink milk,” he explains. “I’m sorry, Yugyeom, it’s all finished.”

“I want one,” Yugyeom pouts. He stands, leaving behind the destruction of clothes in wake. He sidles up to Jaebum, resting his head on his thigh, blinking miserably up at him. “Daddy, can I have one?”

Jaebum immediately looks at Jinyoung for confirmation. Jinyoung should know by now that he is hopelessly weak for anything their son wants.

“I-,” Youngjae says, he smiles tentatively at Jinyoung when he looks at him. “I can get another one. Junho hyung got this for me from the top floor. It’s not a problem.”

Yugyeom clasps his hands, attention on Jinyoung.

“Please, Appa,” he whines. “Please? Please? I’ve been a good boy. ”

Jinyoung has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, if only to spare Youngjae the rudeness. He shrugs instead.

“Ask your daddy,” he tells him in defeat. He’s the one who’ll have to deal with the kid’s inevitable sugar rush anyway. And besides, he _has_ been a good boy.

Yugyeom jumps, fists pumping, a sweet “Yeah!” tumbling from his lips. He takes Jinyoung’s answer as a solid agreement, and toddles right on up to Youngjae, sliding his hand in his. He looks at his parents plainly, all ready to go get his sweet treat.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jaebum reaches into his back pocket, quickly pulling out his wallet.

“Here,” he says, fishing around the inside. The dark brown leather flaps open to reveal a tiny picture of Yugyeom’s toothy, grinning face. “Take my card.”

“No,” Jinyoung blurts - louder and more snappy than he’d intended. They all look at him. He looks back. Then he takes out his own card. “Take mine.”

Youngjae hesitantly takes the card, bowing his head in deference. “Thank you.”

“Just swipe it,” Jinyoung replies. “You should just be able to use it automatically. Give it back to Jaebum when you come back.”

The other man nods, glancing at Jaebum and then at Yugyeom. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Uh,” Jinyoung interrupts. “You’re not planning to leave without saying goodbye to Appa, are you?”

Yugyeom bites down on his lip, and runs forward to give Jinyoung’s legs a quick squeeze.

“Bye bye, Appa,” he says. “Thank you. Love you.”

Then he’s back towards Youngjae, clearly eager for his treat. Jinyoung lets them go, closing the door behind them.

He’s not in the business of letting people he doesn’t know very well take his son. But, well, they’ll only be in the building and he’ll generally trust Jaebum’s judgement of character.

He waits until he’s sure they’re gone, and then he levels a steely gaze on to Jaebum.

Jaebum shifts uncomfortably in his oversized t-shirt. Like a child. “What?”

Jinyoung narrows his eyes. “Stop offering to give your credit card to attractive young men.”

There’s a second of silence. And then Jaebum starts laughing.

“Stop laughing,” Jinyoung complains. “I’m serious.”

Jaebum leans forward to grab him his shirt, annoyingly untucking it some from the waist of Jinyoung’s jeans.

He leads them backwards until he plops down on his wide, comfortable chair and pulls Jinyoung into his lap.

It’s a bit of an awkward fit. They’re both fully grown men, and Jinyoung’s thighs can’t make it much further than the arms of the chair allow.  

Jaebum works some kind of mechanism on the underside that lets them lift, and then he pulls Jinyoung even closer, thighs bracketing him on either side.

Jinyoung doesn’t know what to do other than to place his hands on his shoulders.

“What if someone comes in?” he asks, voice inexplicably hushed.

“Let them,” Jaebum replies, voice equally as quiet but calm, self-assured. He crosses his wrists behind at the small of Jinyoung’s back, watches his steadily.

The gaze is so direct, so passionate and tender, that Jinyoung finds he can’t look at the other man for too long.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says.

“I just want to look at you.”

“Well, … don’t,” Jinyoung replies, making to get up. But Jaebum holds him steady. “ _Hyung._ ”

“You don’t need to be jealous.”

Jinyoung just looks at him.

“That’s great,” he tells him breezily. “It’s also a great time to tell you that I’m going to go visit Chanyeol hyung at his studio next week. Alone.”

Jaebum sighs, but he doesn’t let go of him. “Point made.”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?”

“No,” Jaebum admits. “It doesn’t. I’m sorry, baby, but I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not _worried_ about it,” Jinyoung says. “I’m just-. He’s someone you shared something intimate with, Jaebum. I’m not sure I’ll ever be okay with that. But you have to give me some time to try.”

Jaebum hums, leaning forward to tuck his nose into Jinyoung’s neck. He places gentle, soft kisses just where Jinyoung’s five o’clock shadow is making itself known.

“You’re talking with Chanyeol now?”

“Somewhat,” Jinyoung sighs, head tipping back slowly to give the other man better access. His Adam’s apples bobs as he swallows. “But mostly no.”

They’re unlikely to ever be friends, Jinyoung knows that. He accepts it. They met with the expectation of dating. So they don’t have a friendship to fall back upon. Jinyoung just wants to dissipate some of the bitterness between them. If Chanyeol ever replies to his texts that is.

Jaebum’s mouth on his skin is heaven. It feels good, and correct, and all the things in between. But Jinyoung can’t quite switch off the anxiousness that someone will walk in. And he’s running late, besides.

He extricates himself from Jaebum’s hold, stands up on wobbly, soft knees.

“I have to go,” he says, as Jaebum stands up after him.

“Okay,” but he wraps a hand around Jinyoung’s arm to pull him closer; presses a sweet, lingering kiss on his forehead. “Have fun, don’t drink too much.”

Jinyoung’s arms, of their own accord, slip around Jaebum’s trim waist. Hugging back equally as tight. “I won’t.”

“And Jinyoung?” Jaebum asks, cheek resting on Jinyoung’s temple.

He hums in response. “Yeah?”

“There’s nothing you need to worry about,” Jaebum says, slow and loving. “I _want_ you. I _love_ you. I want to build a life _,_ ” he kisses him again, “with you.”

-

Jinyoung heads to Mapo in a daze.

There’s the distinct smell of grilled octopus and soju as soon as he opens the door to the tiny eatery off of Gosangil road. His friends are sitting in their usual spot tonight, but around a bigger table, with a portable two-section grill sitting in the centre.

Already, thin tendrils of steam billows up between them as Momo ducks to pour Soju into the others' tiny glasses. On one side of the grill there’s some pink shrimp and octopus too. On the other side, an assortment of vegetables and beef.

Minhyuk and Hyunwoo have their backs to Jinyoung, head ducked close together in conversation. Mark is texting, Ahyeon probably. Taejoon sits between Momo and Suji, intermittently speaking to her while sipping at his water. Suji and Jackson, besides them, are locked in fisticuffs once again.

“You’re so annoying,” she snaps, the soju glass in her hand spilling over. She’s bare-faced today, cheeks flushed with the heat and the alcohol.

Jackson smiles, half-way to drunk. “But you love me.”

Suji’s face softens (even though she tries hard to mask it), “I actually hate you.”

They don’t notice Jinyoung until he gets to the table. There’s an empty seat between Minhyuk and Mark.

“Hi,” he says, unceremoniously flopping into the chair and dropping his bag beneath the table.  

“You’re late,” Suji accuses from across the way.

“You started without me,” Jinyoung fires back playfully. He turns to Taejoon. “Hyung, you’re here.”

“We’ve adopted him,” Suji explains. “Be nice.”

Taejoon lifts his glass of water, serene.

“I’m always nice,” Jinyoung mumbles.

The table erupts in noisy and enthusiastic disagreement.

“Hey,” Jinyoung clamours, offended. “I’m nice.”

Minhyuk drapes an arm around his neck, bringing him close.

“No, you’re not,” he says, grinning. “But it’s okay. We love you anyway.”  
  
Jinyoung pushes him away. The heat of the room sticks to his skin.

“I hate all of you,” he says. “Just so you know. And the ratio is all messed up now.”

“Yes,” Momo agrees. She’s standing up, hand tucking the billowy material of her shirt against herself as she leans over the grill to grab Jinyoung’s glass. “We need more women.”

“We _always_ need more women,” Suji adds, turning the peppers. “Shall we call Fei and Jia out too?”

Momo exclaims in agreement, sitting back down. Her hair is getting longer now, uneven at the ends. “See if Yeeun unnie and Sunmi unnie can come too.”

“Fei,” Jackson muses from beside Suji. He lifts his hands to demonstrate. “Is she the one with the nice hair and the great a-”

Suji brandishes the silver tongs in his face, the sauce that they’d marinated the vegetables in splashes on to his cheek. _“Don’t_ finish that sentence.”

Momo gives Jinyoung’s filled soju glass to Hyunwoo.

Jackson offers his palms to Suji in supplication.

Jinyoung can’t help but snort, leaving the two of them to bicker like they always do. He’s learned that it’s best for him to keep out of it.

Hyunwoo gives Jinyoung’s soju glass to Minhyuk.

Jinyoung turns to Mark.  

“Will Ahyeon noona come out too?”

Mark laughs, locking his phone before looking at Jinyoung. His eyes are a little bloodshot, but he looks content.

“I left her very carefully applying a cucumber face mask,” he tells Jinyoung. “I have very explicit instructions not to bother her tonight or else.”

Minhyuk places Jinyoung’s glass in front of him.

“But you’re still texting her,” Jinyoung notices.

Mark only smiles. “She also told me to tell you that she’s still mad that you missed our engagement.”

Jinyoung groans, head flopping onto his shoulder.

“I was going through a very big Life Event,” he defends. “I couldn’t help it. And besides, you and noona re-enacted the proceedings at dinner the other week anyway.”

“Yeah,” Mark says. “The mood of love was a tiny bit dampened by Suji’s death glare to Jaebum though.”

“He deserved it,” Suji’s tinny voice says from the other side of the table. When Jinyoung glances over, she’s sipping happily at her glass soju, leaning heavily on Taejoon’s shoulder as he and Hyunwoo diligently look after the grilled food.

“That was your fault for making them sit opposite each other,” Jinyoung points out.

Dinner was, as Momo would put it, an _experience._ It was held in a fancy restaurant in Gangnam where, apart from Mark and Ahyeon (naturally), they were all woefully underdressed. It was also the first time Jinyoung and Jaebum showed up for the same event with their friends in a few years, much less as a pair.

Conversation was mostly stilted for the first half an hour before alcohol and good food loosened their tongues. Jaebum remained mostly awkward throughout the night, sticking to Mark like they were born superglued to each other. It was a tentative first step nevertheless.

“They’ll make up eventually,” Mark shrugs. “As long as you’re happy, they’ll make the best of making things work between them. You know that.”

Jinyoung smiles, eyes dropping. He picks up his glass, taking a quick sip - soju burning the back of his throat and heating up his chest. “Thanks, hyung. That really means a lot.”

Mark hums. “How’s Yugyeom?”

“Mischievous as always,” Jinyoung laughs. “He’s with his dad.”

“Jaebum’s left the company already?” Mark says. “Last I saw he was with Bang Chan and the other kids.”

“He’s still there,” Jinyoung says. “I dropped Yugyeom off with him.”

Albeit with strict instructions to get the kid home and to bed as soon as possible.

Mark frowns, soju too sharp on his tongue. “We could have come together if I knew you were going to go too.”

Minhyuk drops his chopsticks, ducking under the table to get them as Hyunwoo signals the wandering waiter for a new set.

“I know,” Jinyoung dithers. He places his glass on the table. He doesn’t want to be mushy and admit that he wanted to see Jaebum, that he missed him - even though he was only gone for a fraction of the time they’ve spent apart.

But now that they’re together, Jinyoung doesn’t want to spend a single more second away from him than he has to.

“Ah,” Mark says. There’s a knowing look in his eye.

“‘Ah’, what, hyung?” Jinyoung repeats mulishly. “There’s no ‘ah’ here.”

Mark just laughs, and Jinyoung doesn’t even get to push back because, on the other side of the table, Taejoon is carefully turning down the heat.

“Food’s ready,” he calls out. And Jinyoung can barely hear himself think for all the excitement of his friends dishing out their meal.

-

It’s not until after that, that Jinyoung crashes into a seat at the tiny bar towards the front of the eatery. It’s a little cooler here, away from the sticky heat of the grills.

They decided to stay here for tonight’s outing, so he’s ordering more drinks.

He’s soon joined by Minhyuk and Hyunwoo.

Minhyuk sits on a squishy stool next to him, while Hyunwoo stands over them.

“You’re so bad at this,” Minhyuk smiles, patting the back of Jinyoung’s head as he leans his forehead on the slightly cooler countertop.

“Bad at what?” he asks. He’s slurring now, he can feel it.

“Drinking,” Minhyuk snorts.

He’s definitely had more to drink than Jinyoung has tonight. Jinyoung groans. He has no idea how he’s still remaining upright, nevermind forming complete sentences.

“You’re so cute, Jinyoung-ah,” Minhyuk tells him. And then, to Hyunwoo, “Let’s order lots of water too. Or, maybe we should call it a night?”

Jinyoung peers at them.

“You two look…,” he stops, wondering how to say ‘suspiciously cheery’ without offending.

“No longer on the brink of divorce,” Minhyuk quips. “Why, thank you for noticing.”

Jinyoung’s eyes slide to Hyunwoo, who has a small, barely-there smile on his lips.

“You’d hope anyway,” he teases, knocking into Minhyuk’s shoulder.

They look besotted.

Jinyoung shakes his head. Bad idea. His brain feels like jelly, and his stomach rolls.

When the other two swim into focus, he chokes out, “You’re not married though.”

“How do _you_ know we’re not married?” Minhyuk asks, at the same time that Hyunwoo says, “Might as well be.”

They exchange glances.

“Anyway,” Minhyuk continues, feet resting on the foot-bar of the stool. He blinks twice in quick succession, and all of a sudden he looks so much more serious, so much more mature. “We’re doing better now. A lot better.”

“We talked it out,” Hyunwoo adds. “We’re _still_ talking a lot of things out.”

“I didn’t even yell!” Minhyuk says happily. “There was no yelling involved. Can you believe that?”

Hyunwoo playfully pulls his hair, until Minhyuk starts complaining, head tilted back to alleviate the dull ache.

“We’re working through things,” Hyunwoo says to Jinyoung, ignoring Minhyuk’s incessant taps on his wrist. “Deciding what we want, our future.”

“That’s,” Jinyoung’s eyes widen. “That’s big news, hyung.”

It shocks him sometimes, when he looks around and he sees that they’re all grown up. That they’re no longer teenagers in cheap apartments in cities they’ve never been to before, drinking terrible soju to make up for the fact that they could quite make their gas bill on time.

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo says now. They share a look, and so much passes between them. “It is.”

“What changed?”

Hyunwoo exhales on a smile. He releases Minhyuk’s hair, only to lean forward and ruffle Jinyoung’s.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Jinyoung-ah,” he says, taking Minhyuk’s weight, as he leans back, in stride. “Sometimes you doubt yourself, and you think you’re not doing the right thing. But the good, _positive_ choices you make, the mindset that you have, means good things for people around you too.”

Jinyoung feels too hot, sweat prickling and cooling against his skin. His chest feels tight. “What do you mean?”

“He means,” Minhyuk intervenes, long fingers finding their way between Hyunwoo’s, “that you’re really strong on your own. But that he’s glad you’re chasing your happiness too, even if the people around you don’t completely understand why or how. You and Jaebum love each other, enough that you’re willing to work through things together, openly, and honestly.” He looks up at Hyunwoo, adds quietly, “I want that for us too.”

Minhyuk’s thumb rubs across Hyunwoo’s knuckles. They look at each other in a way that’s so private that Jinyoung feels like he’s intruding.

Hyunwoo presses a soft kiss on Minhyuk’s forehead, the other’s eyes fluttering shut.

When he opens them, Minhyuk stares right at Hyunwoo.

He pouts, “And I want eight babies.”

The moment splinters.

Hyunwoo sighs, “We’re not-. That’s not happening.”

Minhyuk is indignant, “Why not?”

Jinyoung tunes them out, searching instead across the restaurant to Suji. She has the unfortunate knack of always catching a glimpse of Hyunwoo and Minhyuk at their most publicly intimate.

“I’ll have eight babies if I want to,” Minhyuk is saying in the background. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

This time though, Suzy is slumped back against one of the wooden-back chairs of their usual table. The frayed, distressed hem of her jeans stick out on top of her white sneakers.

She’s an absolute mess, hair falling out of her loose ponytail to curve around her face, and she has sauce smeared over her lips.

Though, to be fair, that could just be a shadow of the ugly overheard lighting of the restaurant.

Suji is laughing as Taejoon feeds her a rolled up slice of jeon dipped in one of the many sauces on the table. The chopsticks smear a mark on her cheek as Taejoon’s hand retreats.

She pushes him away, whining loudly as she flops over to lean on Fei’s shoulder, head petted lovingly - like a puppy. A cute, whining puppy.

Too wrapped up in her own new-found happiness to pay attention to things that might hurt her.

-

“Taejoon is taking you home,” Suji says to Jinyoung, about an hour later.

She seems remarkably more sober now, although Jinyoung thinks it might be because they’re round about the same level of trashed.

“No,” Jinyoung complains. The wind outside the restaurant is too cold. “Who says?”

“I says,” Suji says very seriously.

They stare at each other. The world feels like it’s moving, dizzying. Jinyoung could swear he’s on one of those spin disks at a children’s park, his arms always hurt after the fifty millionth time Yugyeom and Bambam beg “again, again!” to make them spin round and round.

Just like it feels now. Round and round. Except, his legs aren’t doing anything. That’s a little weird. It feels as though Suji is getting closer to him though and-

“Ow,” Suji says, their foreheads mashed together.

They dissolve into giggles.

Beside them, Taejoon holds the door of his car open - completely sober.

“Okay,” he says patiently. “Will you both get in now?”

“Gosh,” Suji tells him. “You’re no fun.”

But she wobbles over to the car anyway, lets him click the seatbelt over her in place.

Taejoon offers the same to Jinyoung. But drunk Jinyoung has very strong opinions on what he can and can’t do, so Taejoon is forced to watch him struggle with the lock for at least three minutes.

When they’re all seat-belted and ready to go, Taejoon fires up the map on his phone.

“What’s the address?” he asks Suji.

“I don’t know,” she replies with a shrug. “I only know how to get there. Jinyoung-ah, what’s your address?”

But Jinyoung doesn’t want to go home. He wants his baby. In fact, he won’t - he will _not_ \- go home tonight.

He rattles off the address. Then he hiccoughs.

Taejoon diligently inputs it, watching as the map calibrates a route. He pauses, frowning unsurely.

“I thought you lived in Yangcheon,” he asks Jinyoung, puzzled.

“Yes,” Jinyoung replies, he doesn’t offer more information.

“This address is in Yongsan,” Taejoon presses, he looks very confused - almost comically distressed.

“Yes,” Jinyoung repeats, and he smiles serenely.

Suji, in the passenger seat takes it all in. When it clicks, she turns in her seat to look at Jinyoung; very, very slowly.

Her hair is limp around her face, lipstick smudged.

“You look like Sadako when you do that,” Jinyoung comments idly.

She ignores him, instead points two fingers to indicate the space between them.

“This,” she says, “is a conversation.”

“What does that mean?” Jinyoung frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

 _“You_ don’t make any sense,” she accuses. Sloppily, she taps Taejoon in the arm. “The address is correct, Oppa. Let’s just go there.”

So they drive. It’s mostly quiet their entire way there. And although it’s deep into the night by the time they pull up outside of Jaebum’s apartment building, it’s still weirdly, artificially light outside.

“I’ll escort you to the door,” Suji says. She snaps off her seatbelt and is out of the car before Taejoon and Jinyoung can say anything.

“Okay,” Taejoon sighs, as they watch her make her way to the illuminated entrance without Jinyoung. “Maybe you should go to her.”

So Jinyoung does.

By the time he reaches her, she’s leaning heavily against the awning of the door. Jinyoung waves at Jaebum’s doorkeeper, who’s half-standing ready to greet them.

Suji is still holding her expensive clutch, the thin skin around her eyes is red.

She shuffles over, and Jinyoung leans against the wall right beside her.

“So,” she starts lightly. “Jaebum, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says. “Jaebum.”

“How’s it going between you two?”

Jinyoung takes a moment to think about it, glancing up at the overhead lights of the awning.

“Slow,” he replies eventually. “We want to get things right this time.”

Suji hums, short fingernails tapping on the wall behind her back.

“Are you sure,” she says next, voice thin with worry. “Are you sure this is the right thing? For you?”

Jinyoung bites his lip, glancing over at her. His voice is hoarse, now, due to the alcohol.

“I think so,” he says. Then, he admits, “I hope so.”

“I don’t have to tell you how wary I am of this. That doesn’t mean I won’t be right there beside you. But Jinyoung-ah,” she pleads. “Make sure you’re going into this with a level head. He hurt you a lot.”

“He did,” Jinyoung agrees. “Though, you’ve only really seen things from my perspective. He’s doing better now, he _wants_ to be better. For us, for our son. And I want to trust in that.”

“I trust _you_ ,” Suji replies. “I trust your judgement. Doesn’t mean I’ll like him,” she says wryly. “But I’ll be nice to him, I guess.”

Jinyoung laughs, “You should.”

She offers him a pretty grin and he knocks his shoulder into hers  - she almost loses her balance though, before Jinyoung sets her right.

“So,” he says, echoing her. “Choi Taejoon-ssi, huh?”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a fresh smile on her lips, warmth in her eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Jinyoung leers. “Hyung’s been your arm candy so often these past few weeks. What’s all that about?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” she shrugs. “We hang out more often, now, so what?”

“Uh huh,” Jinyoung jibes. “Are you using protection at least?”

Suji’s mouth drops open in shock, and Jinyoung can’t help but laugh. She smacks him with her clutch, hard. Then, she does it again for good measure.

When she settles back. Jinyoung takes a deep, calming breath.

“Well, are you?”

“Yes,” she hisses. “Now shut up.”

She pushes her hair back from her face, cheeks blushing red.

They’re standing really close together, shoulders touching.

“He’s not hyung,” Jinyoung says. Carefully, because it’s a sensitive subject and he’s not entirely sure how she’ll react. “Hyunwoo hyung, I mean.”

Suji holds her oversized clutch with both hands, pressing it to her stomach. She rocks on the heel of her neat sneakers.

“I know,” she tells him eventually, glancing over. “He’s Taejoon.”

-

After making sure Suji is safely back at the car, Jinyoung waves at the doorman as he strolls to the elevator.

Once inside, he leans his forehead against the cool mirror as he’s seamlessly transported upstairs. He doesn’t close his eyes, because it makes him feel dizzy.

His steps are wobbly and unsteady as he heads towards Jaebum’s door. When he gets there he knocks heavily on it, leaning all his weight on the solid, cool wood.

Which, it turns out, is not a great idea.

Jinyoung falls through the door as soon as Jaebum opens it. The other man catches him quickly, arm around his waist to pull him against his chest.

Warm air ruffles through Jinyoung’s hair as Jaebum chuckles. Jinyoung goes limp, staying right here is all that’s in his immediate plans.

“Didn’t I tell you not to drink too much?”

Jinyoung huffs, eyes closed, mouth full of Jaebum’s sleep-soft cotton shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Are you staying here tonight?” Jaebum asks instead, hand smoothing the back of Jinyoung’s hair.

Jinyoung only nods.

They stumble into Jaebum’s bedroom like that, until Jinyong flops on to the bed. His limbs feel like jelly, and he’s mildly (distantly) sorry at how he’s being entirely unhelpful as Jaebum strips him down to his underwear and sets him under the covers.

“Where are you going?” Jinyoung whines as Jaebum heads back out of the room.

“I’m going to lock the front door, Sleeping Beauty,” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back to you.”

Jinyoung grunts in answer, eyes closed.

He drifts a little bit. The room still feels like it’s spinning.

There’s a soft clink of glass on wood, and Jinyoung’s eyes open to see the glass of water that Jaebum’s set on the bedside table.

He leans over to take a few generous gulps as Jaebum climbs into his bed too.

Jinyoung places the glass back, and then he pulls at Jaebum’s arm, until he’s settled heavily on top of him. Jaebum places a long, soft kiss on his lips.

“Feels good,” Jinyoung whispers, when their lips part. “You. On top of me like this.”

He plants both hands on Jaebum’s chest, and pushes until they switch positions; Jinyoung’s legs bracketing Jaebum’s waist.

“Feels even better like this,” he murmurs, giggling.

“You’re drunk,” Jaebum tells him.

“I’m happy,” Jinyoung corrects. And it’s dark enough that he almost misses the way that Jaebum’s expression softens, a shy smile on his face. “You make me happy, hyung.”

“I’m happy too,” Jaebum replies, arms wrapping securely around his waist.

Jinyoung lies his head over Jaebum’s chest, taking deep, even breaths until he tips over into a dreamless sleep.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drunk!jinyoung is hoot 
> 
> p.s. last chapter is likely being uploaded this weekend 
> 
> p.p.s. thank you for all your lovely comments <3 u da best


	13. Tomorrow, Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. so we're here! 
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who read, to all who commented. to all the friends i made during this. for all your encouragement. to my beta, mo too. 
> 
> thank you to Murooj who is translating anteroom into arabic [here](https://www.wattpad.com/story/151607024?utm_source=ios&utm_content=story_info&utm_medium=link&wp_page=story_details) (pls leave her a lot of love!) 
> 
> and happy birthday, alka!!! ♡

Why must I decide about tomorrow, today?

[How should I know what tomorrow will bring?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktdqlQ1zhg4)

-

Jinyoung wakes up groggy - with a hazy head and a distant headache.

His face is smushed against Jaebum’s back. The light that filters through the curtains, behind them, bathes the room in soft, warm colours.

The TV tucked in a corner is on quietly, the panellists behind a glass desk talking in low, serious voices.

Jaebum’s breathing steadily, evenly, lying on his side with the remote in one hand.

He turns slightly, once he realises that Jinyoung’s waking up. There’s an indulgent smile on his face, as he peers over his shoulder.

“Morning,” he says, humour laced through his grin. “You look terrible.”

Jinyoung groans, shutting his eyes tight and pressing his face into the dip of Jaebum’s back; cotton prickling against his morning stubble.

The sad truth about getting older means that being hungover is much less tolerable for his body. He sneaks his hand under Jaebum’s shirt, presses his palm against the heat there, finds comfort in familiarity.

Jaebum relaxes too, settling into Jinyoung’s embrace - attention back on his morning show.

Hungover Jinyoung is often a non-verbal Jinyoung, he knows him well enough to know that.

That’s the best thing about this, Jinyoung thinks, arms squeezing around Jaebum’s waist. The way they know each other.

Sure, Jaebum knows how to kiss him, how to touch him, how to hold him. But he also knows which side of the bed Jinyoung prefers, and how he likes to taste each part of a meal individually first, and the best way for him to relax after a hard day of work.

The excitement of being with someone new is instead the excitement of being with someone you already know, who already knows you. And that’s so precious to Jinyoung.

He breathes deep, eyes closed, and squeezes in closer just about drifting back into sleep.

The door snaps opens with a bang.

Jinyoung startles, head buzzing numb before the headache floods back in. He glances over his shoulder.

“Daddy, I-” Yugyeom is saying, Poco the bear clutched in one chubby hand, Nora at his side. Then he stops, noticing Jinyoung. Excitement lights up his face all over, his voice pitching high as he yells. “Appa!”

He scrambles over to the bed, clambering all over it with hard, knobby knees until his face is level with Jinyoung’s.

They peer at each other, hair equally as messy.

Poco was lost somewhere in the journey, and Nora has sauntered around the bed, grooming herself in the corner.

“Hi,” Yugyeom says - cute, cute, cute. He sits down heavily. “Why you’re here, Appa?”

“Sleeping,” Jinyoung says, and he immediately grimaces. His voice is low and rough. He needs some water. And a painkiller.

“But-, but how come you’re sleeping here?” Yugyeom asks this time. He reaches forward, hands on Jinyoung’s bare chest. His voice is lilting, but his expression shows confusion, “You’re not even wearing pyjamas.”

Jinyoung extracts his arms from the warm of the covers and wraps them around the kid, pulling him in closer.

“I wanted to stay with you and Daddy today,” he says gently. Beside them, Jaebum is shifting around, settling on his back to mirror them. Jinyoung runs his thumb over the soft hair of Yugyeom’s temple. “Is that okay?”

Yugyeom eyes slide from him to Jaebum, and then back again. But Jinyoung doesn’t know how to read his expression - is it excitement, or is it apprehension?

It causes nerves to flutter in his belly. He’s never really considered the possibility of Yugyeom not being happy with this arrangement, he wouldn’t know what to do.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom says, cutting through his thoughts. “Is okay. But you have to take your pyjamas next time.”

He looks like he’s gonna say something else, but then Nora catches his attention on the other side of the room.

Quick as can be, he clambers over Jaebum’s duvet-covered legs until he’s sliding to the ground. He’s halfway to where Nora is rubbing herself on a fuzzy blanket when Jaebum’s voice stops him in his tracks.

“Hey,” Jaebum says, a tiny edge of parental discipline laced through his groggy, morning voice. “You’re not going to greet Daddy?”

Yugyeom looks sheepish, trundling back to Jaebum. “Hi, Daddy.”

He wraps his thin arms around Jaebum’s neck and presses in close; he laughs and jerks when Jaebum gives him a prickly kiss on the cheek.

Just as quickly, Yugyeom’s returning to harass Nora on the blanket.

Jaebum’s program finishes, and he flicks the channel over to a kid-friendly one.

They shuffle around until Jinyoung can lay his head on his shoulder. His headache is only a dull throb now, it’s not so bad. He is a little bit cold though.

It’s comfortable overall, familiar. But Jinyoung can’t get Yugyeom’s earlier expression out of his head. He wonders, all at once, if they’re going too fast.

He watches Yugyeom now, trying to fit his bottom on the blanket beside an unmoving Nora. He gives up soon enough, migrating to the end of Jaebum’s bed. He settles there, eyes on the brightly coloured characters on the TV.

“Do you think,” he murmurs quietly, later, not glancing at Jaebum where’s he’s turned to look at him. “Do you think he’ll be okay with this?”

 _Us,_ he doesn’t say.

Jinyoung thought Yugyeom would be ecstatic to have his parents back together. It’s never occurred to him to think of the terrifying possibility that he wouldn’t.

“He’ll be fine,” Jaebum assures him, bundling him up closer. “We’re taking it slow. It’ll give him time to adjust.”

Jinyoung pointedly looks at where they’re wrapped up tight together. They’re not exactly inconspicuous.

The expression on Jaebum’s face falters, “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Jinyoung sighs, but he moves back to lie beside Jaebum, rather than on him. “I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable. It’s not just us anymore.”

Everything they do has to factor in Yugyeom - how he feels, how he’ll react.

“I’m just thinking,” Jinyoung continues, eyeing the cautious tension in Jaebum’s jawline, “how we can make this work. He’s important too.”

“The most important,” Jaebum agrees. His expression relaxes though, losing that apprehensive tightness it held just a second ago.

“Are you not worried?”

Jaebum exhales on a laugh. He doesn’t quite meet Jinyoung’s eyes.

“I’m terrified,” he admits, hand sneaking closer to Jinyoung’s under the covers. They’re on their sides now, watching each other softly. “But I want to make it work.”

Jinyoung takes a deep, steadying breath - a smile tugging at his lips.

“Say it again,” he asks. “What you told me yesterday. Say it again.”

It takes Jaebum a second to recall what he means. But then he’s pressing his forehead to Jinyoung’s, fingers wrapped tight around his.

“I want you. I love you. I want to build a life with you,” he repeats quietly. “I’ll do anything to make you happy, baby.”

“Baby?” Yugyeom perks up.

Jinyoung and Jaebum glance over at him at the same time. He’s sitting at edge of the bed, bare toes twitching, watching his parents with wide eyes.

“I’m baby,” Yugyeom says.

Jaebum laughs, “I was talking to Appa, Gyeom-ah.”

Yugyeom’s eyes slide from Jaebum to Jinyoung, and back again.

“No,” he says, smiling like they’re playing a practical joke that he’s already figured out. He crawls forward, settling in the warm space between his parents. “Yugyeom is-, Yugyeom is Appa’s baby.”

“Yes,” Jaebum indulges him, voice high and sweet. “Yugyeom is Appa’s baby, and Appa is Daddy’s baby.”

“No,” Yugyeom laughs (but Jinyoung can hear the tiniest trace of indignance). “I’m Appa’s baby.”

“Okay,” Jaebum agrees easily, teasingly. Yugyeom is tucked into Jinyoung’s front, but his small fingers are holding Jaebum’s face. “So you don’t want a brother anymore? You won’t be the baby anymore if we get another one.”

Yugyeom pauses. He hadn’t considered this.

His breaths are audible now, as the pads of his fingers continue their exploration of Jaebum’s stubbly cheeks.

“Don’t listen to him,” Jinyoung tells him, nose buried in his hair. “You’ll always be Appa’s baby. Even when you grow tall as a beanstalk. Even if we have another little one.”

“I don’t want another one,” Yugyeom says, twisting around to look at Jinyoung. His pout is adorable. “Just Yugyeom, and Appa, and-, and- Daddy.” He glances to the corner and adds, “And Nora.”

Jinyoung hums, rubbing his stomach over his pyjamas - fingers smoothing over the fuzzy cloud pattern of the blue material.

“You like this, then, Gyeom-ah?” he asks. “Daddy and Appa and Gyeom all together like this?”

“And Nora,” Yugyeom reminds him. He surges up, restless, to fidget. His knees and elbows dig in everywhere. “I like it because-” he says, one wayward leg thrown over Jaebum’s stomach. “Because sometimes when I’m with Daddy, I miss Appa. And when I’m with Appa, I miss Daddy too. But like this,” he says, smacking his butt into Jinyoung’s face as he twists around, “Daddy and Appa are here. With me.”

Jaebum grabs him by the waist, attempting to settle him down. Yugyeom always has far too much energy in the mornings.

He fusses, straining against Jaebum’s hold. When he can’t, two dry sobs stutter from his chest.

There’s a tantrum incoming, so Jinyoung acts quickly. Intercepting Yugyeom’s escape, when he finally frees himself from Jaebum, he grabs him and pulls him down into the space between them again.

Jinyoung suffers an accidental smack to the face but he endures.

“Do you wanna hear a story, Yugyeom?” he asks.

Yugyeom peers over his shoulder. “Story? What story?”

“If you settle down nicely, I’ll be able to tell you.”

At least, Jinyoung thinks, it’s fortunate that Yugyeom inherited a love of stories and books from his parents. And he can never resist Jinyoung’s storytimes.

He sits on top of the covers, leaning back against where Jaebum holds him tight. They have twin expressions of curiosity on their faces.

“What story, Appa?” Yugyeom asks.

“How about,” Jinyoung starts. “How about the story of how Daddy and I met?”

Yugyeom frowns. Not understanding.

“There was a time when Daddy and I didn’t know each other, it was before we were friends,” Jinyoung explains. “Like how you and Bambam didn’t know each other before you went to nursery and now you’re friends, right?”

“Do you remember how you met Bambam?” Jaebum asks, propped up on his elbow.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom admits, voice thick.

Bambam has accidentally smacked him in the face with the back of a toy truck from their nursery’s play area. They both burst into tears.

Jinyoung snorts, “Okay, well, do you wanna know how Daddy and I met?”

“How?”

“When I moved here, from Changwon, my first job was delivering pizza to people.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widen. “I like pizza,” he says.

Jinyoung laughs. “I know.”

The pizzeria was a small place, tucked into the commercial area of Hongdae. So small it was only visited by students from the university and the occasional delinquent high-schooler.

“I used to take the pizzas, and go on my moped to take them to people’s houses before they got cold.”

“He was a grumpy delivery boy,” Jaebum cuts in slyly.

“I was _not._ ”

“Yes, you were. Yugyeom-ah,” he says, addressing the kid where his head twists one way and the other to follow the conversation. “Your Appa was the grumpiest pizza delivery boy in Hongdae. He never used to talk to anybody.”

Nora leaps seamlessly and soundlessly onto Jaebum’s bookshelf, rubs herself against the spine of a Murakami novel that hadn’t been pushed all the way in.

“You know what I did?”

Yugyeom squeals with happiness. “What did you do, Daddy?”

“I made the pizzas,” he confides. The hand he had around Yugyeom’s waist drifts down to grasp his ankle.

“You were grumpy too,” Jinyoung accuses. “You just sat in the breakroom whenever you could and read your books.”

“I spoke to Mark,” Jaebum defends. Yugyeom is laughing; eyes closed, slumped on Jaebum’s stomach like he can’t take it anymore, like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard in eons.

Jinyoung can't help but smile, nothing feels better than seeing Yugyeom happy.

“You two only spoke in English,” he says to Jaebum. “Half of the staff thought you were gossiping about them.”

There’s a guilty pause.

“We were.”

It’s too much for Yugyeom, he tips over - body trembling with laughter.

Jinyoung leans forward to stroke his hair. His kid has the weirdest sense of humour.

“All done?” he asks him gently, when Yugyeom’s breath evens out.

“Yeah,” he says as Jinyoung helps lift him up. “That was funny, Appa.”

“You wanna know how the story ends?”

Yugyeom nods, clutching at the duvet cover.

“Daddy was reading _The Little Prince.”_

“I know that one,” the kid interrupts. “Daddy reads it to me.”

Jinyoung smiles, “You want to know something? Daddy used to read it to me too.”

Jaebum’s Korean, when he first moved for university, was stilted. Not because he didn’t know it (he grew up speaking it with his parents) but because he was shy, and embarrassed.

Jinyoung had walked in on him, on one of those dizzyingly busy nights in the pizzeria, in the breakroom carefully sounding out the translated sentences.

He’d stopped abruptly, cheeks red with embarrassment, as Jinyoung closed the door.

Jinyoung’s gotten much better at controlling his impulses. But back then, once he’d gone to sit on the free couch, he couldn’t help but correct the pronunciation of the word Jaebum had been struggling with. He can’t remember what it was, but he remembers the regret that flooded into him as Jaebum curled in on himself. Wilted with humiliation.

He’d avoided looking Jinyoung in the eye, said a quick thank you and closed his book quietly. He’d gathered his things, and was almost out of the door when Jinyoung spoke up, heart hammering in his chest.

‘Please wait,’ he’d said. ‘Jaebum-ssi.’

So Jaebum did. Paused at the door, clutching his bag and his book. Even two years after arriving, he was still trying to navigate the strict etiquette of Korea, coming from a place so laid back as California.

‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Jinyoung told him, eyes on his back. At this point, Jaebum was still a handsome stranger, despite the fact that they’d worked together in such close proximity for months.

His ugly, clunky uniform chafed everytime he moved. ‘You can read out loud while I’m here, if you’d like. I don’t mind. I won’t bother you again.’

“But he did,” Jaebum tells Yugyeom now. “Appa couldn’t resist being a know-it-all and correcting me every second word.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Jinyoung says pointedly, but he matches the smile on Jaebum’s face. “The point is, Gyeom-ah, that Daddy and I became close because of that.”

 _“Very_ close,” Jaebum emphasises with a leer over the kid’s shoulder. Jinyoung kicks him in the shin.

“We were together for a while,” he concludes. He pinches Yugyeom’s soft, chubby cheek. “And then we had you.”

“Why?” Yugyeom questions.

Jinyoung laughs, not quite following. “Why what, baby?”

“Why you had me?”

There’s too long of a pause, Jinyoung doesn’t know how to answer that. It seems like something too big, too beyond him to fully put into words.

“Well,” Jaebum says, cocooning the kid between them, fingers lacing through Jinyoung’s. “When people love each other a lot, sometimes the love they have is so much it nearly overspills. Appa and I loved each other so much, we had so much love to give, that we decided to pour everything we had into someone we could both love. You’re part of me, Gyeom-ah. You’re part of Appa too. And we’ll always love you for that.”

“How about now?” Yugyeom asks, he’s sliding down. Chin tucked against his chest. “You and Appa still love?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum tells him. Hushed like it’s a secret. On the floor, Nora slips out of the room with barely a swish of her tail. “I love you and I love your Appa.”

They both look at Jinyoung. A face full of curiosity, and the other with expectation.

“Me too,” Jinyoung says at last, chest tight with too much feeling. His eyes lock with Jaebum. “I love you too.”

-

“Do it carefully,” Jaebum says, tugging the towel around his shoulders more securely.

It’s inching towards the afternoon now, and he and Jaebum are alone on the back porch of Jaebum’s family home in LA.

Jinyoung’s only barely gotten over jet lag since they flew in a few days ago. He’s never been this far from home before.

But it’s Yugyeom’s birthday, and the impulse arose out of wanting to get away from everything - together. Even if it’s only for two weeks.

“I know what I’m doing,” Jinyoung tells him, rolling his eyes. He adjusts his grip on the electric razor in his hand. “I’ve done it before.”

He used to cut Jaebum’s hair all the time when they were younger. Half-wrapped in bedsheets, wearing only their boxers as Jinyoung kneeled over him - hair falling everywhere.

This time Jaebum’s sitting primly in a chair he’d dragged out from his parents’ dining room, the top centre of his hair portioned off and clipped with an old plastic clip Jaebum’s mom found in a bathroom drawer.

There’s a slight breeze in the air, warm air drifting through Jinyoung’s thin shirt. He can hear the low sizzle of the pot Jaebum’s mother has going in the kitchen, the unmissable groaning bounce of a trampoline a few yards away.

Jinyoung steps towards Jaebum, dragging his fingers through the grown out hair.

He starts in the back, Jaebum’s forehead pressed to his stomach.

The buzz of the razor is sharp in the humid quiet of the yard. Jaebum flinches, only a tiny bit, but then the places his hands on Jinyoung’s hips and tries to relax.

Jinyoung drags the blade up slowly and carefully. He’s not a barber, by any means. He passes his hand over the spot after each pass, feeling the prickle of newly shaved hair - using gentle fingers to dislodge any errant clumps.

He tilts Jaebum’s head a little bit, to start on the section closer to his ear. Jaebum goes easily, pliant.

“Are you still going out tomorrow?” Jinyoung asks him, eyes careful on his task.

“Why?” Jaebum asks. “You want to go somewhere? I can cancel and take you. It’s fine.”

“I don’t want you to cancel,” Jinyoung frowns. “I was just asking. You haven’t seen your friends in a long time. You should go see them.”

“They’re not-,” Jaebum shifts his seating, flip flops slapping against his heels. “They’re Mark’s friends. He can entertain them for the night.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything for a moment. He tilts Jaebum’s head sideways, and lets the buzzing of shaved hair fill the space for a little while.

“You,” he begins a few moments later - cautious. He brushes off Jaebum’s ear before passing over the section again, making sure it’s even. “You don’t go out much anymore.”

Even at home in Korea. Especially at home in Korea.

Jaebum’s shoulder’s stiffen. A minuscule reaction, but they’re so close together - that every movement feels monumental.

“I thought you preferred it that way.”

A few years ago, maybe. Jinyoung will admit that much. But in the intervening time, he’s learned to cherish how important time off from parenting is. How important friends are too.

He folds Jaebum’s ear down, clips the hairline there clean.

“I would hope,” Jinyoung tells him sincerely, “that we’ve both grown up a little since then.”

Jaebum lifts his head so they can look at each other fully.

The vibrations of the razor threaten to dull the feeling in Jinyoung’s hand.

“Go out with your friends, hyung,” he says. “I mean it.”

Jinyoung can see that he wants to, but they've both been treating their newfound relationship like glass. Too afraid to rock the boat.

Jaebum quirks a smile, forcing his voice to sound brighter.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he says. “Haven’t you noticed I’m a homebody these days?” 

He’s trying to brush it off, but Jinyoung’s brow crinkles. “What happened to your friends? From the studio? From before?”

Jaebum shrugs. “They didn’t really bother to reach out to me when I stopped going out with them so much.”

Jinyoung aims the razor back against Jaebum’s head, taking of the last few bits of hair on this side of the cut.

It doesn’t sit well with him. That’s Jaebum’s more cautious now, more guarded.

Awkwardly, he says, “I met Hyolyn-ssi a few weeks ago at the store.”

He was stocking up on school essentials for Yugyeom, who’s just started his new school year - going in for half days, five days a week.

“You did?” Jaebum replies, he can’t quite hide his intrigue.

Jinyoung hums, turning his head so he can start on the other side. “She asked after you.”

From what Jinyoung can see of his face, Jaebum looks surprised, then a little pleased. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“It slipped my mind,” Jinyoung says. He shakes off the shaved hair that has settled on his hand. “She cares about you. A lot. You should reach out to her.”

Jaebum pulls back to look at him.

“Stop moving your head,” Jinyoung warns, “or you’re going to end up bald.”

“You wouldn’t mind that?” Jaebum says, ignoring Jinyoung’s earlier jibe.

Saying he wouldn’t _mind_ it, is probably a bit much. It’s going to take a while to untangle the mess of feelings he has for Jaebum’s friends - especially since they ‘get’ a side of him that Jinyoung’s never really been privy to.

“No,” he says. He thinks of everything Ahyeon told him all those months ago, he doesn’t want Jaebum to isolate himself. Doesn’t want resentment to build up between them again. “I mean it. You deserve to have as many friends who care about you as you can, Jaebum.”

It’s worth it, to see Jaebum’s small, happy smile. It feels freeing to be able to resolve things like this - easily, together.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?”

Jaebum squints up at Jinyoung, relaxation poured into every aspect of his body. “I love you.”

They share a smile, Jaebum’s hand squeezes Jinyoung’s waist.

At the far end of the garden, the latch of the wooden gate is lifted before Jaebum can say anything else.

It swings open on well oiled hinges.

Yugyeom comes through ahead of Jaebum’s father. He’s wearing the same bucket hat he had on his last trip to America.

But this time he’s wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. His light fleece jacket is tied at his waist. He’s holding a plastic beach bucket by its thick yellow handle. There’s a bunch of plastic bags sticking of of the top.

Jaebum’s father is holding a black cooler bag in one hand, and two fishing rods in another - one of a significantly smaller size.

Yugyeom runs the short distance to the porch.

“Appa,” he yells as he runs, determination on his face. “I got the fishes.”

He struggles up the three steps of the decks, but plops the bucket full of ice on the ground next to his parents.

Jinyoung turns of the razor, there’s a little bit more of Jaebum’s hair to go.

“Well done,” Jinyoung says, watching as Yugyeom puffs up, pleased. He leans down to tweak his cheek, and brush his thumb over his beauty mark. “Did you have fun with Harabeoji?”

“Yeah, I got seven fishes,” he says, slumping between Jaebum’s legs. He’s distracted easily. “What’re you doing?”

Jaebum’s father finally reaches the porch, after having discarded everything on the grass. He picks up the bucket.

 _“You_ got seven fishes?” he asks the kid, teasing lilt to his voice. “What did Harabeoji do? Was I asleep the entire time?”

Yugyeom looks sheepish. He drives the rounded foot of his boot into the deck. “No. Me and Harabeoji got seven fishes together.”

Jaebum’s father laughs, “That’s more like it.”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom agrees. Then, he twists around to peer up at Jaebum. “Daddy, a lot of people said happy birthday to me.”

Yugyeom says half the sentence in English, as he’s been engaging most conversations since they landed stateside.

It really agrees with him - he’s been a happy bumbling baby for the past week. No sign of a tantrum in sight.

“Really?” Jaebum asks.

“Yeah. It’s my birthday. I was born today.”

“I know,” Jaebum says wryly, flicking the sparkly birthday badge - with a funfetti themed number 5 - pinned to the kid’s shirt. “I was there.”

He taps the kid on the cheek with a finger, and they both start laughing. They’ve been making that joke all day.

Jinyoung shares a look with Jaebum’s father. It’s still awkward between them all - but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this trip.

“Yugyeom-ah,” Jaebum’s father says now, shaking the bucket. “Let’s take this inside to Halmeoni. Let’s let Appa finish with Jaebum’s hair.”

Yugyeom nods; zooming into the kitchen, as Jaebum’s father follows at a more sedate pace.

Jinyoung can hear him from here. The loud, “Halmeoni! I got fishes.”

He takes a deep breath, picking up the razor again - switching it on.

“Thank you for this,” he says to Jaebum after, steady hand passing over his hair. He places the razor down on the side table with a clamber. “For bringing us here.”

Jinyoung’s always lived in apartments, so being a house with  a garden is a totally new experience. And Yugyeom loves it too, running around with the ageing family dog on the grass whenever he can.

For Jinyoung, it’s so nice being back near the sea again. So much of his adolescence was spent lounging on Changwon’s beaches that he feels right at home in LA.

They have some more activities planned with the kid - particularly sighting some of his son’s beloved ‘doffins’.

He’s not sure who’s actually more excited between him and the kid.

But most of all, it’s feels really, really good, to get along with Jaebum’s family, to be part of them.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jaebum says. “Everything I do, it’s for us.”

“But I want to.”

“Well,” Jaebum smirks. “If you want to thank me how you did last night, I won’t object.”

“Hold on there,” Jinyoung says pushing away his forehead. “Don’t forget our son is sleeping with us tonight.” Jaebum’s cousins are finally arriving. The spare bedroom the kid’s been luxuriating in will be commandeered for other uses. “So keep your mitts to yourself.”

Jinyoung’s phones buzzes just as Jaebum starts groaning.

He takes a quick second to read it over, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Unsure what to write back.

“Your parents?” Jaebum asks.

Jinyoung hums noncommittally. He reads over the birthday message again and again. Eyes stuck on the second to last line: ‘I hope you’re well, Jinyoung-ah.’

Jaebum stands, gently prying Jinyoung’s phone from his hand. He places it carefully on the table, and wraps an arm around Jinyoung’s waist.

“Don’t overthink it.”

Jinyoung sighs, taking off Jaebum’s towel and dropping it in a heap on the chair.

“It’s not that easy,” he says, because it’s not. It’s difficult and tiring and heart-wrenching. Because he hasn’t forgiven them and he’s not sure he ever will.

“It’s a process, Young-ah,” Jaebum says. “You don’t have to forgive them now, or ever, or fully. I-. I know what it’s like to have hurt you-”

Jinyoung opens his mouth to speak but Jaebum overrides him. “I also know how good it feels to be able to still have this with you. I’m lucky. But that choice is yours, and yours alone. And it doesn’t mean you have to figure it out all at once.”

He thinks about it, licking his lips. “Hyunwoo hyung, he thinks I should meet up with them when I get back.”

They haven’t seen each other since they showed up at Jinyoung’s apartment. Their letters have become more frequent though, and they had one painfully awkward telephone conversation the month prior. His fingers dig into Jaebum’s shirt.

“They want to meet Gyeom,” Jinyoung continues. “Would you be okay with that?”

Jaebum takes a deep breath, pulls Jinyoung in closer, tucking him into his embrace.

“I don’t know,” Jaebum says. “I’ve never met them. But I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“I think,” Jinyoung says carefully. His heart is beating hard, he’s sure Jaebum can feel it. The other man just keeps his embrace steady, a warm hand running over his back. “I’ll let them meet Yugyeom. I don’t want - to have any regrets.” His parents are getting older now. “But I don’t know after that.”

Jaebum hums, squeezing tight. Then, he leans down to press a warm kiss to Jinyoung’s mouth.

-

The door opens. A decently large hyeongwan furnished in dark wood followed by a step up to a bright, polished cedar flooring.

Jinyoung can see the kitchen from here, bright and airy - with enough space to fit in a large kitchen table and half a dozen chairs.

He stands by the side, near the shoe rack and coat stand - which have been incorporated into the wall right next to the video camera system that links to the apartment building’s front door.

Yugyeom holds his Mickey Mouse bag by the hanging strap. He scratches at his jeans, peering around - brows tightly knit together.

“Well,” Jaebum asks him, closing the heavy front door. “What do you think, Gyeom-ah?”

There’s a pause.

“It’s not here,” Yugyeom says after a moment, gesturing at the empty space. He looks almost offended. Jinyoung has to hide a smile behind his hand. “Daddy, where are the things?”

“They’ll come soon,” Jaebum explains after a lengthy pause. He was definitely expecting a different reaction. So he's less excited than he was just seconds before.  
  
“When?” the kid demands.

“Next week.”

“Why not now?”

Jaebum gives up. He looks at Jinyoung, at a complete loss.   
  
“Gyeom-ah,” he says, getting down to his level. He pulls him closer by the arm. “We’re gonna say goodbye to Appa and Daddy’s old houses first. That’s why we’re packing everything, to make sure we don’t forget anything. Is that okay?”

Yugyeom nods, but he doesn’t look too convinced.

He glances around the empty apartment again, mouth pursed. “We’re gonna live here?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says gently. “Yugyeom and Appa and Daddy. Would you like that? Do you like this place?”

Yugyeom turns his pout to Jinyoung. “I think so.”

Jinyoung laughs. “Go look at it some more, then. So you can be sure.”

The kid makes to run off, excitement at exploring a new place taking over any reservations he might have had. But Jinyoung grabs him before he can get too far.   
  
“You have to take your shoes off first.” 

“Why?” Yugyeom whines, impatient.

Jinyoung shares a long-suffering look with Jaebum.

“My shoes are clean, Appa. And nothing’s here.”

“It doesn’t matter what's here right now, Gyeom-ah,” Jinyoung chides. “Just what will be. This is our new home. We’re gonna live here. So we have to respect it, because it’s precious.”

Jinyoung glances at Jaebum, where he’s bending down to unlace his sneakers. He thinks back to what Momo told him in a tiny tea house on Suraksan Mountain.  

“This is our new home,” he repeats to Yugyeom, but also to himself.  “And we have to take our shoes off, leave the dirt and nastiness behind. We don’t take it with us.”  

Yugyeom sighs, put upon. “Okay.”

He rips off the velcro straps from his soft sneakers, leaving them where they are, and he hops up into the main area of the apartment. He rushes forward, eager to see more.

Jaebum follows after him, pausing on the threshold of the hallway and the kitchen, beyond which Yugyeom is screeching with the joy of discovery.

Jaebum turns to look back at where Jinyoung is still standing in the anteroom of the apartment.

He quirks a brow, stretching out his hand towards Jinyoung. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, toeing off his shoes too. He takes a deep breath as he places one steady foot on the landing, and then the other. He smiles as he steps out of the hyeongwan and into their new home.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “I’m ready.”

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow!!! so that's the end of that. 
> 
> please let me know what you think, so i can improve for next time haha 
> 
> p.s. i'm coming back at'cha with a fic for the halloween exchange in october so you'll see me again soon! 
> 
> p.p.s. i might even start posting my incoming jjp royal au soon too so, u know how it goes, subscribe, tell ya friends ;) 
> 
> p.p.p.s if you wanna comment anonymously, you can reach me through [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/thelogicoftaste)! 
> 
> thank you all so much! i really hope you enjoyed anteroom ♡

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first I've written in a little while, and the first got7 fic I've written ever. So I'm a little unsure about characterisation and plot. So if you could comment and let me know what you think, I would really appreciate it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading ^.^ 
> 
> You can find me being not funny on twitter: @exosbebe
> 
> (p.s. if, by any chance, you're here bc of my sterek fics, yes i will complete them ... eventually ... by the end of 2018 is my plan)


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